The Ol' Switcheroo
by CloverCloverClover
Summary: What if Amalthus had awakened Mythra instead of Malos 500 years ago, so best girl (Nia) and best bro (Malos) got more screentime? Among a bunch of other things? Let's find out. (TITLE DOES NOT REFLECT THE TONE OF THIS FIC) ACT 5 FINALLY FINISHED! AVOID COMMENTS ABOUT CHAPTER 25 UNTIL YOU HAVE READ IT IF YOU WANT TO AVOID MAJOR SPOILERS!
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE**

Alright, so the basic idea here is that it's a story where Amalthus awoke Mythra instead of Malos, so the Aegis Rex awakens is Malos. I didn't want it to just be a straight up retelling of the same scenes from the game, so this action has a bunch of different consequences other than just "Mythra and Malos switch places", and it's going to change some things. I'm also going to try to make them retain their original personalities as much as possible, which means that Pyra/Mythra are going to be "bad" in a different way than Malos was bad, and Malos is going to be "good" in a different way than Pyra/Mythra were good. And yeah as far as shipping goes a major inspiration for this is giving Nia/Rex space to breathe, so there you go. I have no plans to add any OC into the story, although I reserve the right to change some personalities of less-developed characters a bit if I thought they were pretty sparse in the original game (might notice this with Dromarch in this chapter.)

One last note: While this first chapter is pretty long, and covers all the events of the first "chapter" of the game, I actually originally wrote it in 3 separate chunks, and might do shorter updates like that in the future, so each "chapter" of the story won't necessarily cover each "chapter" of the game

**1.**

Rex sighed, staring through a pair of binoculars at the deck of Goldmouth, headquarters of the Argentum trade guild. The place was swarming with Urayan and Ardainian soldiers, and from the commotion on deck, it looked like things were more than a little aggressive.

It was no wonder. The two nations were at war, and yet Chairman Bana insisted on doing business with the both of them. Goldmouth was one of the few locations where Urayan soldiers and Ardainian soldiers were expected to work side by side with each other. But how could that possibly work? Eating food next to each other one day, they might be called to kill each other on some battlefield the next. For all those soldiers knew, they could be sitting down next to the man that had killed their best friend in battle. And Bana was literally selling them the weapons they'd use to kill each other. He was making a big profit off of it, too. Enough, at least, to have the deck crawling with mercenaries to keep the peace. But most of the time it barely seemed like they could keep it together...

Rex sighed again, then put down the binoculars. "Alright, Gramps," he called out, looking up at the titan on whose back he rode. "We gotta dock sometime, right? Just pull in...smooth like. You know...stealthy."

"Rex," rumbled the titan, craning his neck back around. "What could you possibly be talking about? Stealthy? How in the world am I supposed to do anything stealthy? You're using me as a boat. I assume you're aware of how big I am."

"Yeah, yeah," Rex mumbled, kicking one of his boots at the stony hide beneath his feet. Gramps served as both his makeshift home, salvage station, and form of transportation. He was actually larger than most small boats himself. "I just, you know. I don't want any trouble with the Ardainians, or the Urayans. I don't want them trying to paw through my salvage again. Last time I fished up a whole crate of rabbit diodes, and the Ardainians just 'accidentally' kicked them back into the Cloud Sea!"

"I understand, my boy. But you know, Chairman Bana did personally tell that Ardainian Captain, that if something like that were to happen again, he'd, well. You know what he said. He seems quite protective of you salvagers."

Rex winced recalling the memory. Bana had let loose with a string of profanity so foul that even the hardened Urayan and Ardainian soldiers had fallen silent for a respectful moment. "Hah! More like he's protective of the profit we bring in! Alright then, Gramps. Let's just dock as stealthy as you can manage, yeah?"

"So not stealthy at all."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it."

The titan could move quickly through the Cloud Sea when he wanted. The Argentum trade guild quickly grew from a small red blob on the horizon to the imposing, multi-story haphazard warehouse and market it was up close. There was, unfortunately, absolutely no hope of any stealthy approach. He was waved in to a particular docking point by Hirkham, the dockmaster, who was being watched intently by a group of Ardainians. Even worse, there were no mercenaries, and no Urayans, in sight. Somhow this small group of soldiers had managed to catch him docking all alone with none of the competitors or peacekeepers nearby to reign them in.

"Perfect," grumbled Rex. He sighed as a small wooden ramp was leaned up against the side of Gramps, allowing him easy access to the dock itself. "Hey, Hirkham! How's things! What's the docking fee today-"

"Boy!"

Rex cringed, then slowly turned around to see a group of eight Ardainian soldiers standing at the head of the dock. "By the authority of Emperor Niall, we will be inspecting your salvage haul!"

**2.**

Nia stared out the window of her rented room, thoughtfully gazing out over the roiling fog of the Cloud Sea, idly running her hands through Dromach's fur. Then her stomach growled. "Ugh, I'm so damn hungry!" she cried.

"What's the matter, Nia? Miss my cooking?"

Nia looked back at the cloaked and hooded figure standing in her doorway. Behind the hooded figure stood Jin, staring at her with that half-sad, half-empty look he had for everything, face still hidden behind his mask. His face barely moved at all when he spoke. "Didn't you eat already?"

"You know what it is, it's just that all we had was some vegetable stew," Nia replied. "But look at us, we're out in the middle of the Cloud Sea! I bet you can get great seafood here. Oh, I can just smell it. I want to go down to the market and check things out."

"No," Jin said. And that was all he said. He dismissively breezed past the hallway and went into his own room, closing the door.

The hooded figure shrugged apologetically. "Jin wants us to keep a low profile. I mean, I get it for me. I would think you'd be fine, though."

"A low profile?" Nia tapped her foot thoughtfully. "OH,is THAT why you're wearing that cloak? You're not usually, you know, so modest about covering up. Uh...I mean, that is to say, uh..."

"What are you saying, Nia?" the voice from the depths of the hooded cloak was cold, smooth. "Are you saying I like to show a lot of skin?"

"Uh. Well, you know. I wouldn't say you normally leave as much to the imagination as this cloak does, Pyra."

The hooded figure threw its had back and laughed. The hood fell away, revealing a smiling, kind-looking redheaded woman. A diadem with a green crystal crossed her forehead, and emerald earrings dangled from her ears. Her eyes were a blazing, smoldering orange-red hue. "Well, you got me there," she said. "Well, tell you what, just hold on a bit. Maybe Jin would be alright with you visiting the market later on, when there's less people awake."

"Thanks." Pyra smiled at her, then went off to her room as well. Nia returned to gazing out the window, but not out at the Cloud Sea, but rather down at the commotion on the docks. It looked like some salvager had just docked, and was in the process of being bullied by some Ardainian soldiers. He looked so young, too. Nia felt a pang of sympathy. "Ach, the poor kid," she murmured, as one of the Ardainians shoved him and went straight for one of the crates he had been unloading. "He really should...NOT DO THAT!" she cried in shock, as the young man punched the Ardainian soldier from behind.

**3.**

Rex winced, shaking his hand from the bruising blow he had delivered straight into the Ardainian shoulder's plate mail. "Hey, I told you, stay away from my salvage!" he cried. "That's my livelihood, yeah? There's no damn weapons in there, so leave it alone! Hirkham, tell these guys I never bring in military hardware!"

"You...punched me," said the Ardainian captain in bemused shock.

"Well let's not go crazy, I'm pretty sure it hurt me more than it hurt you. I was just trying to get your attention," Rex said. "Let's just -"

And then his world exploded in stars as the butt of an Ardainian rifle crashed into the back of his skull. The next few moments were chaos. Behind him, in front of him, all around him, metal-clad Ardainian fists and boots crashed into his ribs, his nose, his face, beating and battering him. He could hear Gramps bellowing in the background, he could hear Hirkham screaming for help, and then -

The sound of a gunshot rang out through the dock. Everything stopped. The Ardainian captain, looming over Rex, looked around for the source of the sound. "Oh no," he whispered.

The Ardainian soldiers parted to reveal Chairman Bana, a nopon of imposing size, dark green, holding a smoking pistol in one of his wings. He was flanked by what seemed like a small army of mercenaries. "Hello, Rex," said the Chairman. Then he turned to the Ardainian captain. "Captain Chiragh," Bana smirked. "I believe you and me have words before about treating my salvagers poorly, yes?"

"B-by the authority of Emperor Niall-" the Captain stuttered.

"CAPTAIN Chiragh," Bana interrupted. "Look around you. You see dirty factories? You see a bunch of worthless filthy desert and rusty pipes?"

"No..."

"You know why that is?"

"B-because-"

"IS BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT IN MOR ARDAIN, CAPTAIN CHIRAGH, YOU IN GOLDMOUTH. AND IN GOLDMOUTH, AUTHORITY OF EMPEROR NIALL WORTH LESS THAN WHAT I FIND, ON BOTTOM OF MY BOOT!"

"H-hey," the Captain said, starting to shake a little as the mercenaries surrounding Bana leered at him. "The Emperor deserves-" and the he feel silent, and gulped, as Bana slowly lazily leveled the pistol so it was pointing at him.

"Captain Chiragh, we have words about this before. Salvaging not just poor Rex's livelihood, you know. Him salvaging MY livelihood too. When you harass my salvagers, I lose money. I think this time, I just strap you to an anchor and toss you to the bottom of the Cloud Sea."

"You can't do that!" The captain gasped. "Mor Ardain will-"

Bana laughed incredulously. "What? You think Mor Ardain miss one measily Captain? Mor Ardain want my weapons. They not care if one Captain disappear in the process. They do care, you know what I do? Give them maybe, .5% discount on next purchase. That how much you worth, Captain Chiragh. .5%."

As much fun as it was seeing the Ardainian captain squirm, Rex felt like it was probably time to stop this. After all, Bana may not have been kidding about strapping the man to an anchor. "Hey Bana," Rex said, spiting some blood away from his split lips. "Hey, Bana, it's alright. They didn't touch my salvage this time, it's all here. It's still fine."

Bana cast a dismissive eye towards him. "Rex not look fine. Rex look like, what is it? Oh yes. Raw hamburger."

"Nah, it's fine, just some nicks and bruises!" Rex winced as he stood up, as a jolt of pain shot through his chest and into his right arm. "It'll be fine."

Bana shrugged. "If Rex say so." He lowered his pistol, and turned back to the Ardainians. "Captain Chiragh, I want you and these men OFF my ship, right now. And when you get back to Mor Ardain, you tell your Emperor that thanks to you, I raising price on next three purchases by Ardainian Empire by 10 percent." He turned to the mercenaries surrounding him. "TAKE THEM AWAY!" As the mercenaries herded together the protesting soldiers and walked off, Bana turned back to Rex. "So bothersome, have to come down from my desk and organize these stupid mercenaries myself. You think they know how to watch a dock. But they so lazy, they only work properly when man who pays them is around. Hard to find good mercenaries in the middle of a war. Well. Hard to find them for cheap."

"Yeah well. Thanks all the same, Chairman," Rex said, gingerly feeling his face, wincing at the swollen bruises, and the tenderness of his nose.

"Rex clean himself up," the Chairman said airly. "Then by end of day, come see me. In my office."

"I...uh, what for?"

"Hey! I just save your butt! Don't ask questions, just come to office before end of day! I tell you then!"

And with that, Bana stormed off, huffing and sweating with every step.

"Rex, are you sure you're alright?" Gramps said, as Rex groaned and began limping over to unload his cargo.

"Well, you know. Honestly? No. They beat me pretty bloody there. But you know, it's been worse." Rex tried to shift one of his crates onto a dolly, then yelped as pain shot up his leg. "Maybe I should sit down though. For just a bit."

Before he could, though, a voice cried out, or more like hissed out, "Hey! You!"

Rex glanced around. Among the hustle and bustle of the dock, maybe ten feet from him, was what looked to be a young Gormotti girl. She had gray hair tied up in yellow ribbons, the distinctive Gormotti ears, and some sort of white tribal paint on her forehead and cheeks. Her eyes glinted yellow in the sun. She wore some sort of odd yellow one-piece suit, and a flowing white scarf attached to a hood.

"You're a real bloody idiot, you know that, kid?" she snapped at him. "Reallllly stupid."

Rex threw up his hands in frustration. "What the hell, lady? You look like as much of a kid as I do."

"What the hell did you think you were doing, picking a fight with a bunch of armed soldiers?" As she spoke, she walked forward, jabbing a finger at him in an accusatory manner. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why did you do it?"

"I mean...look, this salvage is my livelihood," Rex said, simply. "I got people back home who depend on me. I can't just let them bully me out of it, right?"

The Gormotti girl was standing a mere foot from him now, staring at him intently. "Well, you're still stupid," she said finally. "But I have to admit that was brave."

She reached out to grab his arm, and Rex recoiled instinctively, wincing in pain as he did so. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, stop being such a baby and hold still," she snapped irritably. "I'm trying to heal you here. Dromarch?"

Rex gasped as a large, white, tiger-like creature, but with a much larger, fluffy mane that flowed back from his chest and between his shoulders, padded silently out from the shadows of a nearby ship. "Whoa...that's a blade! And so you're it's Driver-"

"You don't close your mouth, you're gonna swallow a fly," the girl replied. She placed one hand on the big cat, presumably named Dromarch, and one hand on Rex's arm, and suddenly Rex felt a surge of energy flowing from the cat, to the girl, into him, like a gentle tide washing away the soreness and pain in his bones. He gasped as he watched some of his scrapes and cuts knit up before his very eyes. In only a matter of a minute or so, he felt as good as new.

"Wow!" Rex said, leaping to his feet, rotating his arm, stretching out his shoulders. "I feel great! Thanks, lady!"

"The name's Nia." Nia got to her feet. "You're welcome, kid," she said, managing to make it sound as if Rex hadn't already thanked her.

"The name's Rex."

"Okay well, you're welcome, Rex." She glanced around nervously. "Well, I suppose I should be getting back-"

"Well, hold on, I gotta thank you properly! Man, I feel great. Let me unload my salvage and get a price for it and then I can at least treat you to dinner or something. You like seafood?"

Nia, who had been about to walk away, froze. "You know what," she said. "I think I'll take you up on that."

**4.**

Nia sat on a crate, kicking her legs idly, watching Rex haggle with the little Nopon at the central exchange. She had never been around so many Nopon before, and she had always heard how shrewd they were, but she was surprised at the casual greediness of the tiny creatures. Rex eventually made his way back to her, looking crestfallen. "Man, I can't believe I only got two hundred gold out of that haul," he said, looking a bit abashed.

Nia snorted. "Is that it? Two hundred gold? You were willing to risk your life just for a little bit of money? Greedy AND stupid."

Rex glared at her. "Hey, I told you. I got people depending on me."

"You're just a kid. Who's depending on you?"

Rex frowned, then pointed back at the central exchange. "I'm no kid. And sure, they're not here, but I got people back home I send money to. Fonsett village. I mean...I'm sure they can manage without me. It's not like I can send home much. But I like to help them out."

"O-oh." Nia looked away, embarrassed. "That's actually sweet. Look, if you need the money, you don't need to get me anything-"

"Nah, it's fine. Besides, never leave a debt unpaid. That's rule seven of the salvager's code!"

Nia cocked an eyebrow at him. "Salvager's code, huh? There any parts about getting your arse kicked for pocket change?"

Rex crossed his arms. "Hey, do you want some seafood or not?"

"I do...but I feel a little bad if you can't afford it."

"Oh, that's no problem. There's this secret method I have for getting seafood for free!"

"Oh? How d'you do that?" Nia leaned forward, curious.

Rex grinned. "It's this ancient, mysterious technique that I like to call, 'Fishing.'"

"Smartarse."

Nia followed Rex as he strolled back to the small Titan that he had unloaded his cargo off of. She jumped back in surprise as it swung its massive stone head to look at the two of them.

"Back already, Rex? I thought I heard you say you were going to take this young lady to dinner."

"Hey, Gramps. Yeah, but...you know, can you believe it, I only got two hundred gold for that haul. I thought I'd catch us something."

The Titan - Gramps, apparently - rolled its eyes. "Honestly. This young woman - I'm sorry dear, I don't believe I caught your name - "

"Her name's Nia!" Rex offered, still smiling, almost like he was enjoying this lecture.

"Nia - I wanted to thank you, dear, for helping Rex out, it was very kind of you -"

"Oh, uh...it's no problem," Nia said, a little unsure of how to take all this. She hadn't spoken to a Titan like this before. "I mean, I couldn't just let Ardainian soldiers do that to someone without helping them. Even if they were really stupid."

"Yes, it was stupid, you are absolutely right - Rex, this charming young lady helps you out, fixes you up, and you're too much of a cheapskate to take her to a restaurant?"

Rex actually looked a little abashed by this. He rubbed the back of his head. "I mean...I dunno, maybe you're right, Gramps."

Nia actually found herself feeling bad for him. After all, the kid did say that he had people back home he had to send money to..."No, it's alright," she said. "I'm actually a bit curious to see him catch something."

Rex smiled at her, then hopped onto the Titan's back. "See? You worry too much. I'll catch something and cook it up better than the canteen could, anyway." He offered Nia a hand, and hoisted her onto the Titan's back.

Nia glanced around while Rex began shoveling coal into a small brazier to start a fire and checking a few small buckets for bait. It was a neat little setup, the small titan's back decked out like a fishing vessel. Or salvaging vessel. "Is this where you live?" she asked, seeing the small shack built into the titan's shoulders.

"Yeah, most of the time. Sometimes when I get a good haul, I'll spring for a stay at an inn. But Gramps' back is comfy enough." Rex blew on the glowing embers in the brazier.

Nia glanced inside the shack while Rex was preparing. It was about as much of a cramped mess as she was expecting. She snorted when she noticed a calendar on the wall that had pictures of bikini-clad girls frolicking on a beach. "Nice calendar, there."

"Huh? What? Oh." Rex glanced over at her, blushing. "Uh, I mean, I didn't choose that one. I got it for free at the exchange, you know. They were giving them away."

"Right." Nia rolled her eyes. "How are you gonna fish, anyway? I don't see any poles here."

"Hah! You don't need poles. Not when you have this!" Rex held up an arm and pointed to his wrist.

"What, are you gonna catch them by hand?"

"What? No. THIS." Rex pointed again, closer, and Nia noticed that his arm had a winch attached to the wrist, with a small hook attachment. "Just watch." He fiddled with it, releasing some line, and fished a chunk of meat out of a chum bucket, attaching it to the hook. He let out more line and then tossed it over the side of the Titan, then laid on his stomach on the grassy patch, dangling the line down into the depths of the Cloud sea. "And now, we just wait."

"Uh huh. And how long will-whoa!" Nia leapt forward and grapped Rex by the shoulders as a tug on the line nearly pulled him into the clouds. Rex just laughed and flipped a small release on his wrist, causing the line to begin rapidly zipping itself back onto the reel. "Oh, why would you not use a pole for this?" she snapped, and then yelped and jumped back as with one smooth motion Rex heaved up on the line, and hauled a Crustip up onto the Titan's back.

"Watch out! Those claws can be nasty." Rex scrambled across the grass and grabbed a sword that looked like it had been welded together out of junk he had salvaged. "I made this out of junk I salvaged!" he beamed at Nia, as if he was proud.

"Right. Fantastic." Nia found herself wishing that she had bought Dromarch along. But her blade had gone back to their room to nap in the sun streaming in through the window after helping heal Rex. But it wasn't necessary. She watched in surprise as Rex handled the blade pretty competently, dispatching the Crustip with a few sharp blows, deftly dodging the snapping claws. She leaned back and crossed her arms. "Wow. You know, you aren't half bad with that thing."

Rex prodded the dead Crustip with his boot. "Yeah, Gramps taught me a few moves." He bent down and snapped off the claws from the creature. "Claws have the best meat in them. You just crack them open, stuff some butter and onion in there, and let them cook inside the shell, it's delicious."

Nia sat down, cross-legged, on the grass, watching as Rex carved open a small window in the shells of the claws to stuff the ingredients in. "I'm curious," she said after a while. "How'd you get into salvaging?"

"Oh...you know. It's a nice way to make some money. And there's always the hope of getting a big haul and making it big."

"Yeah. I bet. Especially with the Urayans and Ardainians looking for ancient weaponry down there all the time."

Rex frowned as he carved some onions. "Yeah...but I don't get myself involved in that sort of stuff. I don't like it. I mean money is great, but I didn't get into salvaging to help people kill each other. I dunno. I understand if the other salvagers do it. I just don't want to touch it myself, you know?"

"So what ARE you looking for down there?"

"Oh, all sorts of stuff. It's amazing the kind of things you can find down there. All sorts of little bits and pieces, odds and ends, from civilizations long gone. It's kind of fascinating, really. And..." to Nia's surprise, some sadness seemed to creep into Rex's optimistic exterior. "And...well, you'll probably think this is a bit stupid."

"You? Stupid? Noooooo."

Rex continued on, ignoring her. "But...well, I mean, you can't help noticing the Titans are dying. Mor Ardain is already sunk half into the sea. That's the whole reason they started this war, right? That's the whole reason they conquered Gormott, too. There's less and less space for people to live. And it's making people kill each other." He tossed the prepared claws onto the brazier, then leaned back, and stared longingly at the World Tree. "But...well, here's the stupid part, right. What if...Elysium were real?"

Nia was quiet for a moment, staring intently at Rex. Then she burst out laughing. "Elysium?" she asked, incredulously.

"Yeah," Rex said, completely serious. "What if Elysium really is up there, atop the world tree? What if we could make it there? Get everyone to live there? What if it has enough space for everyone, so...people didn't have to die in these awful wars?"

Nia was taken aback by his sincerity. "But...you know it's just a legend, right? A fairytale. You need something solid to stop these wars. Not some magical land on top of some overgrown shrub."

He shrugged, still staring off into the distance at the tree. "I mean, I'm no history expert. But so much happens that we can't explain. Nobody really knows how this world works. Is it so crazy to think Elysium might be real? Is...is it really so bad to hope for something better? A place for everyone to live?"

Nia stared at him, listening to the claws sizzle on the brazier for a moment. She thought back about what she had learned about him and felt a gnawing suspicion begin to grow in her gut. "Rex," she asked quietly. "D'you have parents?"

"No," he said simply. "They died when I was very young. I was raised in the orphanage back in Fonsett. That's why I send money back to them, yeah? One helping hand deserves another."

Nia was quiet, contemplating this. She wasn't sure what to say. "Everyone, huh," she murmured, then glanced back up, intently staring at Rex's face as he looked off at the world tree. He might be a little dumb, and more than a little naive, but he was a better person than most people she had met. "That's...not a bad hope at all. Even if it is silly. You're alright, Rex."

"Thanks. You're alright too, Nia. I mean, anyone who'd stick out their neck to heal up a stranger is alright in my book." He leapt up. "Food's ready!"

**5.**

Nia leaned back, patting her stomach, sighing contentedly. "Oof, alright, I gotta admit, that was pretty delicious."

"Right?" Rex kicked his feet up on a crate, leaning back into the grass next to her, chewing on a blade of grass. It had gotten dark during their dinner, though the light from the nearby guild, the moon, and the flickering fire of the brazier kept things relatively well-lit. "Glad I got a Crustip. I mean they're common, but most people don't realize just how good they taste if you cook them right."

"Right, well. I should probably be getting back."

"Where are you staying?"

"Oh. I'm actually staying with my crew, in the special guest rooms at...what was his name? Bana's? The Chairman's office."

"Woo, fancy," Rex whistled. Then suddenly he leapt to his feet. "Oh, damn! I forgot, Chairman Bana asked to meet me today."

Nia froze. "Wait. He asked to meet you? Does he normally do that?"

"I mean, no. The chairman never asked to meet me personally before. I wonder what he could want? C'mon, I can walk back with you."

Nia's mind began putting two and two together as they made their way to the Chairman's office. She knew that Pyra and Jin had wanted to hire a salvager, and had been planning on meeting one today...

They climbed the red carpeted stairs to Bana's office, getting waved in by the guard at the door. Bana, the nopon of imposing size that Jin and Pyra had mostly dealt with so far, sat behind his desk, scribbling furiously in a ledger. He looked up, glaring at Rex. "Ah. Rex. So kind of you to FINALLY answer my summons."

"Oh...heh, sorry, Chairman. I lost track of time."

"Salvagers," muttered Bana. "You lucky I not find someone else. I have very important, very lucrative job offer for hundred thousand gold in advance. Ah-oh, I see you already meet member of crew," he said, glancing at Nia. "Did she tell you about job?"

"ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND?!" Nia snorted at how excited Rex was. It was almost cute. He glanced over at Nia. "I..Huh? What?"

"I...haven't told Rex anything," Nia replied to Bana. "I didn't know he was the one you planned on hiring."

"Oh! Well. Just coincidence, hm? Well, may as well bring in other members of crew."

Nia watched nervously as one of Bana's servant girls opened the door to the guest quarters, and Pyra and Jin strolled out. She suddenly felt very awkward standing by Rex's side. Jin merely stared at her impassively. Pyra was still wearing her cloak and hood, her expression hidden mostly in the shadows, but a small smile played across her lips.

"Friends, you see...Nia, right? Member of your crew already meet salvager I plan on hiring."

"Oh. So that's the boy you ran off with today." Pyra's smile grew more amused. "Did you have fun on your date?"

"Shut up, Pyra," Nia snapped. "I ran into this lummox getting his ass handed to him by a bunch of Ardainians. THIS is the one you planned on hiring? I was expecting someone...well, older."

"Do you think he can't handle it?" Pyra asked.

Nia opened her mouth, but then looked over at Rex, at how excited he was for the money. "I...no. I think he'd be great for the job." Rex shot her a beaming smile in silent thanks, and Nia looked away, feeling embarrassed for some reason. Dromarch padded out silently while Bana described the details of the job to Rex and Nia walked over to him, running her hands through his fur. She wasn't actually too sure on what it was Pyra and Jin planned on salvaging, herself, but she was suddenly uneasy.

"...Wow, this is great! I guess I better go get prepared," Rex said, having heard all the details of the job. He offered a little wave to Nia before rushing off. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow then, eh?"

Nia waved back, watching him disappear down the stairs, before turning back to her room. Jin again merely brushed past her, saying nothing. She didn't even know if he was angry that she had been talking to Rex or not. Pyra, on the other hand...Nia turned around and there she was, standing in the doorway to her bedroom, smiling down at her. Nia sort of hated that condescending smile.

"He's cute," Pyra said simply.

"So what," Nia said. "You go ask him out if you think so."

"You know I don't have a problem with you talking to him, right? Any sort of happiness you can get from people...there's nothing wrong with getting it. Just as long as you remember the mission here."

"Yeah, yeah. It's not like you think, anyway. I saw the poor kid getting his ass kicked by some Ardainians, like I said. I just patched him up."

"And then had dinner with him. Oh, don't give me that look, it's not like I was spying on you. You know his Titan is visible from pretty much the whole market."

"Yeah well. I had nothing to hide. He got me some of that seafood I wanted. Was good, too." Nia smiled.

"That's good. I'm glad you had fun. Like I said, just remember the mission."

"Pyra?" Nia said, as Pyra began walking away. "What exactly is it we're dredging up here? Is it...some sort of weapon?"

Pyra just smiled inscrutably. "Well, I suppose you'll find out more tomorrow. Goodnight, Nia."

"Goodnight, Pyra," Nia said, softly. Dromarch looked up from the bed as Nia flopped on top of him, running her hands through his fur, lost in thought.

**6.**

Rex paused in the interior of the Maelstrom, Bana's humongous salvaging flagship. He had been inspecting his salvager's gear in preparation for the job, but...there had been something bothering him. It wasn't just the job, itself, which was a massive undertaking to lift an ancient ship off the bottom of the cloud sea - and he had been told precious little else. It wasn't just that he had spotted a mysterious black ship trailing them on the way out, when he was up in the crow's nest of the maelstrom. It was a nagging, anxious feeling in his gut, like something telling him he was forgetting something, something vital, that would make things go horribly wrong. Nothing he did seemed to shake the feeling. He had gone over the salvage plan multiple times, and it seemed solid, and he had checked his gear what must have been a dozen times by now.

"Nervous, Rex?"

Rex spun around, shocked. He hadn't heard anyone coming up behind him. There stood Nia's two crew members, Pyra, still wrapped in her heavy cloak and hood, nothing visible but her mysterious smile, and the white-haired, impassive Jin, looking at him with a cool, empty gaze, almost as if he weren't there at all.

"Nah...not nervous, just...look, I know you want your privacy, yeah? But I've been curious. This isn't some sort of weapon we're dragging up, is it? I don't like getting involved in that sort of thing..."

"Would you back out, now," Jin said, suddenly, "If we told you it was?"

"I..." Rex found himself unable to meet the man's gaze for long, and he looked away, rubbing the back of his head. "I suppose not. After all, I accepted the advance and made a contract, and we're already out here. No, I wouldn't back out."

To his surprise, the impassive Jin cracked a small smile. "Good man. That's what I like to hear."

Pyra reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, reassuringly. Rex blushed a little. Whatever perfume she was wearing smelled surprisingly good. "Well...it is a weapon. I won't lie to you. But we're actually bringing it up to make sure it DOESN'T get used."

Rex brightened up at that. "Ohhhhh. To stop it from falling into the wrong hands, you mean. Keep it away from the Urayans and Ardainians."

The woman laughed softly. "Well. I wouldn't say it's them I'm worried about. But yes, something like that. I learned a long time ago, weapons should be used as sparingly as possible." Jin snorted, and Pyra glanced back at him. "Jin here doesn't always agree. But we do agree on THIS weapon."

"Well, I think I could get on board with that." Rex grinned up at her.

"I actually wanted to ask you something else, too. When we go in to explore the ship, I'd like you to come with us."

"Really? Me? Why?"

Pyra seemed to consider her words carefully for a moment. "Nia told us how good you were with that blade, and I think, being a salvager, you might have some experience dealing with hostile sea creatures." She paused again, as if searching for the right words. "I think you'd really help us out."

"Nia said that?" Rex laughed, embarrassed. "It's just a piece of junk, but...sure! Man, never thought I'd be fighting next to a driver."

Pyra's smile faded from her face, and she nodded slowly. "Good. We'll be glad to have you along," she said, suddenly seeming detached. "We'll catch you when you come up from the salvage. Good luck."

Rex watched as she quickly strode away, Jin trailing wordlessly behind her. He felt better knowing that whatever they were getting, it wouldn't be used to kill people. But he still couldn't shake the feeling of unease and impending doom.

**7.**

Nia groaned, feeling the ship shift beneath her feet, reaching out to steady herself against a crate. She glanced out a nearby port window, but wasn't able to make out much, pelted with rain as it was. Boats didn't usually make her sick, but...

"Oh, I shouldn't have eaten all those parathas," she muttered as the ship lurched again. Though it wasn't just her stomach that was bothering her. The closer they got to their objective, the more and more anxious she got. She would have put it down to jitters, but she had developed a pretty keen sense of approaching danger that had saved her more than once, and right now, although there was nothing she could point to, her body was telling her to get ready to run.

"Feeling seasick?"

Nia yelped and spun around, only to find herself face to face with Rex. Her ears flattened and she narrowed her eyes. "I'm not seasick. And don't sneak up on me like that. Shouldn't you be preparing for the salvage? We can't be far off now."

"Oh don't worry, I'm prepared." Rex crossed his arms and leaned back on the crate next to her. "Although, to be honest, my gut keeps telling me something's going to go wrong with this one. I don't know what it is."

Nia laughed at him. "Your gut is telling you, huh? Do you have a bum knee that tells you when it's going to rain, too?"

Rex frowned. "Don't make fun! You've been salvaging as long as I have, you develop a sort of sixth sense about these sorts of things."

"Why don't you just stick to the normal five, eh? I think that's probably about as much as you can handle anyway-"

Suddenly, Rex turned to her, and Nia was somewhat taken aback by the intensity of his stare. He had a real fire in his eyes that he could summon when he wanted. "Hey, Nia. Do you know what kind of weapon you guys are trying to dredge up here?"

"Weapon?" Nia crossed her arms. "We're looking for a weapon? Who told you that? I have no idea what we're trying to dredge up here."

"Pyra did."

Nia seethed inwardly. So she wasn't important enough to tell what they were trying to salvage, but this random salvager was? "Bull," she muttered.

"No really, she told me. You really didn't know? Are you the rookie of the team?" Rex's face was wearing something dangerously close to a smirk.

Nia leaned forward to jab a finger into Rex's chest. "I'm no such thing. Don't you go getting ahead of yourself. You may be the person we hired to help us salvage, but I'm still the one they're bringing on the ship itself to help find-"

"Actually, Pyra asked me to help with that too." There was no doubt about it now, the boy was smirking at her. "She said you told her about how good I was with my sword and she wanted me to come along."

"I told her nothing of the sort," Nia snapped irritably. "You weren't that impressive. Just because you can smack a crab around a bit, doesn't mean you know what to do in battle. I-" Suddenly, the ship lurched again, and Nia gasped, nearly losing her balance, until Rex reached out to grab her arm. She glared up at him in response. "Stop making up stories," she hissed.

"Look, if you're feeling seasick, you should sit back there, in the back of the boat," Rex said, pointing to the salvager's locker area. "The boat moves around less in rough seas back there. That's why they keep the salvager equipment there, so it doesn't get knocked around."

"Perhaps you should take him up on the offer, my lady," Dromarch drawled. He was watching nearby, draped languidly over one of the crates, yawning. "You want to be at your best for when we go into the ship, don't you?"

"Fine," Nia snatched her arm away from Rex. "If it will make you feel better. But I'm not seasick."

She followed Rex to the back of the boat, boggling at the salvager equipment hung up on racks along the wall. Some of the suits were relatively modest, like the one Rex was wearing. Some of them were great brass monstrousities of tubing and dozen of knobs. It reminder her a bit of Ardainian technology. It was noticeably calmer here, the movements that had sent her stumbling towards the front of the boat were barely noticeable here."

Rex walked over to a wall by the lockers and casually kicked it. A small bench unfolded from the wall with a slam. "Here you go."

Nia plopped down on the bench, drawing her legs up beneath her. She watched as Rex ruffled around in his pockets, finally retrieving a minty-smelling herb, which he tossed to her. "Chew on this, it'll help settle your stomach," he suggested.

Nia looked down at the herb in her hands, pensively, then back up at Rex. "You know," she said, after a few quiet moments, "I've been getting the weird feeling that something's going to go wrong too."

Rex threw his hands up in frustration. "Then what did you give me all that guff for?"

Nia opened her mouth to snap back at him, but suddenly, the booming, authoritative voice of the salvage master echoed out across the deck. "ALL SALVAGERS, TOPSIDE! WE WILL BE ABOVE TARGET IN TEN MINUTES, DIVING WILL BEGIN IN FIFTEEN! GEAR UP AND STAND BY YOUR PAYLOAD TO AWAIT FURTHER ORDERS!"

"Ah, that's my cue," said Rex. He flipped his scuba helmet up. "See you on the boat later, yeah?" And with that, he took off running, up the stairs, to the top deck of the Malestrom, before she could reply.

Nia watched his form retreat up the stairs, then popped the herb he had given her in her mouth. It had a refreshingly minty taste, and it almost immediately sent a soothing chill down to her stomach. "Hmmmph. Be careful, you goon," she muttered under her breath.

**7.**

It was the biggest salvage operation Rex had ever been a part of in his life, with no fewer than eight teams of three to four salvagers each, working with the largest recovery balloons Rex had ever handled before as well. The target was a large, ancient warship nearly five hundred peds down, and the depth and the roughness of the current meant that each diver would be able to bring and attach only one recovery balloon to the ship at a time, while nearly four dozen total were calculated to be needed to bring it to the surface. The plan was to send dive teams in staggered formation, to minimize the amount of people that might get lost in the dark waters of the dive at a time.

They had bought plenty of extra recovery balloons, and it was a good thing too, because they were needed. Between the storm and the currents and the depths, nearly half of the salvagers sent down lost their balloons before they reached the target. Rex prided himself on not losing any, and participating in more dives than any other salvager.

The ship itself was huge, the largest salvage target Rex had ever bought to the surface, and of a design Rex had never seen before, above or below the cloud sea. It was oddly ornamented, with inlaid silver gilding along the dark metal side, and with a propulsion system that seemed more advanced than any Rex had ever seen before. Indeed, he wasn't even sure how the propulsion system operated, he couldn't seem to perceive any moving parts.

He had the privilege of being the salvager to attach the last recovery balloon, which meant he also got to see them trigger. On his way up, he looked back at the ship as the salvage master hit the recovery switch. The recovery balloons burst forth from their packaging, looking, from this distance, like giant, weird fungus that suddenly bloomed on the sides of the ship as they inflated. Then, with a screeching, whining groan, the ship lifted from the floor of the cloud sea, reluctantly. Rex marveled at the feat – it must have taken loads of planning, preparation, and calculations to ensure that the balloons lifted would lift the ship evenly, and not split it in two from an uneven rise, not to mention that they would be enough to get it to the surface at all. He had a newfound respect for the salvage master, he doubted few people in the world could coordinate a job like this. He watched as it surged past him on its way up, rising like some awkward sea beast, trailing clouds of accumulated silt dispersing their way back into the cloud sea in its passing.

By the time he climbed the ladder back up to the deck of the Maelstrom, tow lines and a plank had already been attached from the Maelstrom to the risen ship. Dozens of salvagers were already swarming the deck of the risen ship. Other salvage teams were already celebrating, cracking open drinks. Rex guessed that made sense. Their job was done. But for him, it was just beginning. He was almost regretting promising Pyra that he'd help out in their exploration of the ship. The dive had been exhausting, and his muscles were already feeling dead. But a promise was a promise, so he pushed his way past the bustling crowds, to run back to his locker and grab his sword.

When he came back up topside, the activity seemed to have died down somewhat. Most of the curious salvagers were gone, and only the few with a job to do were still out on deck. Jin and Pyra were easy to spot, particularly because of Jin's long white overcoat, which stood out. Pyra still wore her cloak and hood. They stood close to each other, next to the plank leading from the Maelstrom to the risen ship. Jin was staring at it with an odd expression on his face, and Pyra was holding his arm, as if comforting him, leaning in to whisper something Rex couldn't hear into his ear.

Suddenly, he felt a pinch on his arm. He yelped and spun around, only to find Nia grinning at him, with Dromarch at her side. "There, how do YOU like it," she asked. She looked out over at the risen ship, hands on her hips, and whistled. "You know, I have to admit it, this is pretty impressive. I never knew you could get something that big by salvaging."

"Well, to be honest, this is the biggest salvage I've ever done myself." Rex puffed out his chest. "But, you know. I do this for a living!"

Nia raised a bemused eyebrow at him. "Yeah, yeah. Reel it in, macho man."

"Nia! Rex!" Jin's voice was harsh, angry almost, as he called out to them. "Let's go, let's get this over with. You're up front with me." Jin glanced over at Pyra. "Pyra, you just stay in the back for now. You know what to do if we need you." And with that, Jin walked briskly down the plank from the Maelstrom to the risen ship, heading straight for the entrance to the ship.

Rex and Nia jogged over to keep up with him. But as he did, Rex couldn't help but notice that he still hadn't shaken that feeling of impending doom.

**8.**

The inside of the ship was cold, dark, damp, and rotted. Where the floors, walls and ceilings hadn't completely fallen apart and rotted away, they were weak, rusted and waterlogged. The ship was also, in the interior, nothing like Rex had ever seen before. Where the walls had fallen away, a complex system of pipes and thin, spidery wires was revealed. It was like no technology Rex had ever seen before. Not even Mor Ardain had anything this advanced. It was a salvager's dream. Rex wished he had just one hour to have this place to himself, but he'd have to grab what he could now, because he knew, almost certainly, that after these blades had what they wanted, the Maelstrom would be towing it back to Argentum to disassemble it and sell it for scrap.

The inside of the ship was also, unfortunately, plagued by an infestation of large, aggressive Crustips. Rex knew the creatures could get big,but this was gigantic, almost twice the size he was. And hostile, too. They came clattering out of the shadows, or would wait until you got lose to them and then lash out with their large, painful claws. Rex had never really beeen afraid of Crustips before. Sure, their claws could be damn painful. But Crustips this size? They might actually seriously hurt you with their claws.

Fortunately, Jin seemed more than capable of handling himself. Indeed, Rex found himself wondering why they had asked him to come along at all. Jin was fast, faster than seemed possible, and extremely alert, his sword flashing out in the murk whenever he heard a rustle or a clatter of a Crustip. He seemed to have a knack for finding their weak spots and sliding in his sword past their armor. Usually it would take only one or two sword strokes before the monsters went down. Rex found himself feeling almost bad for the things. But then again, he also found himself wishing he could take one of these gigantic Crustip home to eat.

Instead of his sword, Rex found himself using his crowbar, and his knack for opening locked crates, to pry open locked doors or rusted shut doors.

"You know," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow, after he had spent twenty minutes struggling to open a door only for Jin to glance inside, shake his head, and point to the next one, "What exactly are you looking for? Maybe I could help out if I knew..."

Pyra shook her head. She had simply been trailing the group the whole time, running her hand along the wall, seemingly almost lost in thought. "Actually...we're not quite sure what we're looking for."

"Not quite sure?" Rex glanced at Nia, but she merely raised her eyebrows and shrugged a him. "How can you be sure what you're looking for is here if you're not sure what you're looking for?

"Oh no, he's here," Pyra murmured. "I can feel his presence."

"He?" Rex propped his crowbar against the ground like a cane and leaned on it. "Who's 'he'? I thought you were looking for a weapon. I-" Suddenly, he felt the ground shift dangerously beneath him, he shouted in surprise and only just managed to leap back before the ground beneath him collapsed, revealing nothing but an inky blackness below. "Man, this place is a death trap," he muttered. "It's a good thing I-"

And then with another rumble, the ground gave way beneath him again, and Rex plummeted down into the inky darkness, landing flat on his back, forcing the air out of his lungs.

"Rex! Are you okay?"

Rex glanced up, at the hole in the ceiling of….wherever had had fallen into, seeing Pyra and Nia peering down at him. "Yeah," he groaned, "I'm alright." He struggled to his feet, and in the process, felt his hand knock against some solid object behind him. Suddenly, the room he was in lit up with a soft, green light that was running through veins in the wall, gently illuminating the space he was in.

It was a relatively large room, compared to the others in the ship, perhaps thirty feet in length, with walls blank except for the angular veins through which the green light beamed. The solid object he had backed into was a console sticking out of the center of the room. Across from that console was a large, semicircular door, perhaps ten feet high at the peak, and in the middle of it, a raised, blue, stone dome, about the size of his palm, with a carving of a drop of flame on it.

He heard Pyra laughing from above. "Wow, good job Rex. I think this is exactly what we're looking for."

Jin dropped down from the hole suddenly landing with the grace of a cat. Nia hopped on Dromarch's back and let the big cat leap her down. Pyra got down with the help of Jin.

For a long moment, Jin looked around the room, taking it all in, his face unreadable. His eyes lingered on the door, especially. Finally, he seemed to snap back to reality, and he offered Rex a small smile.

"Not bad, kid," he said simply. Then he nodded toward the door. "Go open it."

"Huh? Me? I don't really know how…." Rex strolled over to the large semicircular door, examining it. He reached out and tentatively touched it the blue crest in the middle, and as soon as he did, it bloomed blue light, and after a long rumbling and grinding start, the door began to retreat into the frame that surrounded it, revealing a long hallway, one that must have ran most of the length of the ship, and similar door at the end of it.

Pyra put a hand out to catch Nia as she dashed forward, preventing her from running into the hallway. "And that door, too, Rex, if you please."

"Well, alright." Rex took a few steps into the hallway, then looked back out into the room. Pyra, Nia and Jin weren't moving, just staring at him intently. He raised an eyebrow at this, but then shrugged and continued down the hallway. At the second door, he touched it in the same way as the first, and it opened in the same way.

The room beyond was a bit smaller, more crowded, dominated by the huge device in the middle. It was a load of circuits, pipes and machinery, into which was slotted a large glass cylinder. Inside the cylinder lay a black knight, his arms folded across his chest. He wore jet black plate armor, oddly molded to his body, and his face was hidden beneath a tight helmet that had stylized wings flaring out from the side.

"What in the world," Rex whispered. He became aware of a throbbing, purple light in the periphery of his vision, and looked down. Set into the floor before the knight was a large, dark sword, of a design Rex had never seen before, and set into its hilt was a cross-shaped, purple gem, which slowly pulsed with its own inner light. Almost without thinking, Rex reached out to touch it, and his fingers brushed against it.

"Rex, please don't!" shouted Pyra from behind him. Rex turned around to look at her, but only saw her face for a moment, before Jin filled his vision.

"Whoa, Jin, what…." suddenly, he became aware of a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down, only to see Jin's bloody blade protruding from him. "Why….?"

"Don't take it personally. It's an act of mercy." With that, Jin slid his sword from Rex's chest, and he slumped down to the floor.

"Ugh….seriously?" he muttered, but it came out as barely more than a whisper. Behind him, he could hear talking, but that faded away, and so did his vision, until he was aware of nothing but the feeling of his face on the cold, damp ground, and eventually that faded away too.

**9.**

Nia didn't even have time to scream when Jin had flickered, faster than her eye could follow, and stabbed Rex in the back. But now that he was walking away from the boy's prone body, she rushed forward and shoved him. "What the hell is wrong with you? What did Rex ever do to you?"

Jin merely ignored her, and continued walking away. Pyra shook her head and looked down. "We should have been more careful," she said, mournfully.

"Jin!" Nia shouted, stamping her feet. "Why did you do it?! Why did you kill him?!" She let out a growl of frustration as he simply disappeared down the hallway, then ran to Rex's body, falling to her knees beside it. "Rex was a good person," she said, furiously, then looking up at Pyra. "He was a good person. He had people who depended on him. He didn't deserve to die!"

"Does it hurt?" Pyra asked, softly. Nia didn't hear her, or didn't care. She was too busy shaking her head furiously, looking at Rex's dead body. Pyra stepped forward and took the young Gormotti girl's face in her hands. Nia's face was etched with fury, and she was fighting back the beginning of tears. "Isn't it odd," Pyra said. "You knew him for only a day, huh? And yet that was enough, that was all it took for him to make enough of a bond with him for you to be sad to see him go. Sad to say goodbye."

"What the hell are you bloody talking about, Pyra?" Nia scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand furiously. "I'm not sad because I have to say goodbye, I'm sad because Rex is DEAD."

"That's what I mean. All it took was one day for him to get close enough to hurt you."

"The only person hurting anyone here is Jin! Why did he do it? Bastard!"

Pyra sighed, and stepped away from Nia. With one wave of her hand, the tubings connecting the glass cylinder and the black knight were severed in a flash of heat. The glass cylinder itself lifted out of its slot, levitated on top of a disc of brilliant light. Pyra walked out, glass cylinder trailing behind her. She looked back over her shoulder at Nia, who still knelt by Rex's body. "I know it hurts," she said simply. "I'll give you some time to say goodbye."

Nia watched Pyra disappear, then looked down at the sad form of Rex's body. She looked at her hands, her white gloves stained red by Rex's blood, and clenched them. He didn't deserve this. He was a good person. And he was where he was, at least partially, because of her. "No," she muttered to herself. "No, no no. I'm not going to let this happen. Dromarch!"

Dromarch padded out from the shadows in which he had hidden, circling around Nia and the body. "Yes, my lady?"

"Keep an eye out for me. I'm going to heal Rex."

"Can that even be done….?"

"Well, I can bloody well try if I hurry!"

Dromarch circled around her again, his eyes large, dark, mysterious. "And say you heal him. What then? You bring him outside, where Jin kills him all over again?"

"I'll find some way to sneak him out the back. I'm not letting it happen like this."

"My lady-"

"No! No more distractions! I have to hurry!" Nia waved Dromarch away. She placed her hands on Rex's back, framing the ugly wound between his shoulder blades. "If I can pull this off, you better be grateful, you unlucky bastard," she whispered.

**10.**

Rex woke up to the quiet, peaceful chirping of birds, in a field of green that was as comfortable as a warm blanket. A perfect sun beamed down on him from a crystal-clear, vibrant blue sky. He tried to gather his thoughts, to remember how he got here, but they kept swimming away from him, constantly out of focus.

He sat up and looked around. The green field faded into forest in the distance, but the trees were blurred, out of focus, indistinct. In the other direction, the green traveled up a gentle slope to meet the sky, and at the top of the hill was a tree, and...a single figure, in black, stuck out against the horizon, like a stain on an idyllic painting.

Rex struggled to his feet, and began stumbling towards the figure. As he traveled up the hill, in the distance, a bell began tolling, long, low, mournful peals ringing out across the land.

As he got closer to the figure, he was able to make out more details. It was a knight of some sort, in a sort of sleek, moulded black armor, his head covered completely by a smooth black helmet with wings flaring out from the side. He was looking away, out towards the far distance, but as Rex got closer….

"Hello, Rex." The knight didn't turn around to look at him. His voice was...amused?

"Uh...how do you know my name?" When the knight didn't answer, Rex drew closer. "Where...am I?"

"Elysium. Or my memories of it, anyway."

"This….is Elysium?" Rex boggled, looking around. He drew next to the knight. Off in the distance, there was a beautiful town of white buildings nestled between a forest and a lake. The bells tolled louder. "Oh man….it's perfect!"

"As it was. I told you, this is just my memory of it."

"Your memory? Who are you?"

The knight reached up and removed his helmet, revealing a face that was at once handsome, amused, and cruel. Intense gray eyes felt as if they were burning a hole into Rex, beneath a mop of thick black hair. "I'm Malos." He jabbed a sharp, gauntleted finger towards his chest, where a cross-shaped, dark crystal lay embedded in his armor. "The blade you just resonated with."

"Blade….?" Rex shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't remember that. How did I end up in your memories…?"

"You were killed." A small smile played across Malos' face, as if he thought the idea was kind of funny.

"Killed….?" Suddenly, Rex's memories came flooding back to him. Jin flickering behind him, seeing his own blood on Jin's sword as it jutted out of his chest…"That BASTARD! I ought to kick his ass up and down Argentum!"

Malos laughed. "Well, I like your attitude, boy." He crossed his arms and leaned back against the tree. "So, what do you plan on doing?"

Rex sat back in the grass, looking up at the sky. "Well. I mean, there's not much I can do if I'm dead, is there? I guess I'm just glad I got to see Elysium before I died. I mean, what's going to happen to me? Do I die again here? Wh-"

"Shut up." Malos shook his head. "I can feel it, movements in the ether. You picked a lucky place to die, kid. Someone's plucking you back. I could have saved you myself, but I actually prefer it this way."

"Bringing me back…? Is that possible?"

"Never mind that." The bell began tolling louder, subtly. Malos narrowed his eyes. "We don't have much time. I need your oath, kid."

"My oath?" Rex shook his head again. "What do you mean? What for?"

Malos growled in frustration, impatient. "You're my driver now. But I'm not like your average blade. I get to reject drivers, if I want. And I won't let you be mine unless you swear to me an oath. Swear to me, that you will take me to Elysium. In the real world, not in my memories. Atop the World Tree."

Rex winced as the tolling bell grew even louder. "I mean, of course! I always wanted to go to Elysium, so this is kind of an easy choice for me."

"And why did you want to go there?"

Rex gestured around himself. "I mean, look at this place. All this green, and so much space. Everyone could live here without having to worry. People could live in peace. So yeah, I'll take your oath."

Malos strode forward and grabbed Rex's shirt with one clawed gauntlet. "An oath is not something to take lightly, kid. Duty and loyalty are everything. EVERYTHING. It's not going to be an easy path to Elysium. And I have powerful enemies. You will suffer. Nothing comes without it. Are you really ready for all that?"

Rex looked up at the knight, eyes blazing with sudden intensity. Those eyes. Malos had seen those eyes before. "I'm ready. I've always thought Elysium was the only way the world could survive."

Malos stared down at Rex for a long moment, Rex staring defiantly up at him. The bell grew to a deafening roar. The world began to shake, turn white at the edges. "Well," Malos said softly, "You'll have to do."

And the world faded to white.

**11.**

Rex blinked slowly, as his vision faded back. He was surrounded by a warm, gentle light. His vision was fuzzy, slowly focusing in. Someone was leaning over him, their features still indistinct. It was...Nia? But she looked...different. He still couldn't see her completely. "Nia…?" he groaned.

She disappeared from his view, and slowly his vision came into sharper focus. He was staring up at the ceiling of the room in the ship. The knight, and his cylinder, were gone. He sat up, rubbing his head, to see Nia sitting in the corner of the room, looking the same as she ever did, peering intently at him, with Dromarch by her side.

"Thank the Architect that worked," Nia said. "How are you feeling?"

Rex looked down at his chest. There was a small hole in his suit, and dried blood, and a nasty scar. He touched it, but there was no pain. "I feel...great, actually," he said. "Did you do this…? How could you possibly….? I was dead!"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Nia laughed nervously. "You weren't dead. Jin...must have missed your heart. I mean it was nasty, but nothing I couldn't heal."

"But...Malos told me…."

"Who's Malos? Look, we got to-AH!" Nia gasped suddenly as Rex grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug. "W-what are you doing, you oaf?!"

"Whatever I was, thank you, Nia. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

"Let me GO!" Nia gasped, pushing him off her. She breathed heavily as Rex scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "I mean….okay, y-you're welcome. I'll send you a bill, yeah? But right now we gotta find a way to sneak you out of here. Jin and Pyra are still around, and-"

"I'm sorry, but I can't leave. I have to go get my blade from them."

"Your….blade? You can't mean that fellow locked up in the cylinder?" Nia shook her head. "You'd think Jin had stabbed your melon head, instead. You're doing no such thing. We're going to sneak you out, and then-HEY!" Nia grabbed Rex's arm as he began walking away. "What d'you think you're doing?" she cried. "You go up there, and Jin is going to kill you again!"

Rex shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any choice. I made a promise to him. He's my blade now."

Nia hissed, then spit at the floor. "THAT'S what I think of your fool promise, you idiot. What about the salvager's code, eh? 'Never leave a debt unpaid'? Well I think you owe me a pretty big debt, yeah? I didn't just heal you so you could run off and get yourself killed again thirty seconds later. Now come on," she said, tugging insistently at his arm, only getting more angry when he refused to move. "Please,"she said, finally, a bit of despair creeping into her voice. "Don't go up there."

"My lady," Dromarch rumbled quietly, padding to her side, nudging her. "If this...Malos….really is this boy's blade, now….you know what that means. You know how it feels."

Nia finally let Rex's arm drop. "Yeah. Yeah, I know how it feels. I'd never leave you behind either, Dromarch." She glanced at Rex and sighed heavily. "But look at him, he doesn't even have a weapon."

But at the mention of the word 'weapon', an image crystallized in Rex's mind. A sword of dark metal, bleeding dark fire, a sigil on its hilt….

And suddenly, it wasn't in his mind, but in his hands.

"Hooooooooookay then," said Nia, eyes widening.

**12.**

Pyra walked out, quietly, to the top deck of the risen ship, Malos still floating in his prison beside her. Jin was standing wordlessly in the storm, looking out at the roiling ocean. The salvagers all seemed to have retreated to the Malestrom already. A few of them stood on the deck of the guild ship, looking out at them curiously. "I've called the Monoceros," he said, quietly, as she approached.

"How are you feeling?"

"I...need to rest," Jin admitted.

Pyra nodded, then stood by him, looking out over the ocean as well. "That was poorly done, Jin," she said quietly.

Jin sighed in frustration, then crossed his arms. "It's not as if I enjoyed killing him. I actually liked the boy. But you know what he did. You saw what was happening."

"Maybe it wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world to let it happen."

Jin looked at her wordlessly. The only sound was the patter of rain on the deck.

Pyra shook her head. "I mean, maybe we could have tried talking some sense into him."

Jin laughed harshly. "When have you ever known Malos to be open to sense?"

"It's just….there's no need to cause so much pain. Ever. You know how I feel about that."

"It's necessary sometimes, Pyra." Jin looked down. "I'm sorry."

"You could have said something to Nia, at the very least. You know she spent all yesterday with the boy. This is even worse for her."

Jin kept his face down, simply watching the pattern of rain pelting onto the deck by his feet. "You're right. I should have." Suddenly, he looked up, sharply. "Where….IS Nia?"

"I left her with the boy, so she'd have a chance to say goodbye."

"Damn it, no," whispered Jin, eyes widening.

Pyra glanced at him in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Didn't you know why I recruited her? Feel that in the ether? She's-"

Suddenly, the cylinder next to Pyra crashed to the ground. She spun around in shock. Dark flames were spreading across the surface of it. As she watched, a gauntleted black fist punched upward, shattering the glass, then ripping the door off its hinged, flinging it away into the ocean.

"No," Pyra said, despair thick in her voice. "No, no no no. Not like this."

"Oh yes," came Malos' voice from the ruins of the cylinder, and he rose, black flames dripping from him, faceless behind his helmet, but Pyra could feel the contempt behind it all the same. "Very much like this." He kicked the cylinder aside with contempt, and it slid across the deck with an awful screech, falling into the ocean.

Jin stepped forward, grabbing his sword, then gasped and winced, hand going to his side.

"Stay back, Jin," Pyra snapped at him. "Don't push yourself. I'll handle this." She threw back her hood, revealing her red hair, and a defiant glare.

"Mythra, Mythra, Mythra," Malos walked forward, arms wide, in a mockery of welcome. "It's been too long." And then he threw a vicious punch, aiming for her face.

Pyra nimbly dashed backwards. "I don't want to have to hurt you, Malos."

"What fresh lunacy is this?" Malos' incredulous laughter stabbed through her. "Destroyer of nations, mass-murderer, killer of MILLIONS, and now you're saying you don't want to hurt anyone?" He crossed his arms, tapping his foot. "And what's with the tacky red hair, Mythra?"

"It's been...a long time. Lots of things have changed. I'VE changed. And it's Pyra now."

"Oh. You've changed, have you? Did a little soul searching? Had a little personal growth?" Malos was nodding his head in mock sympathy now, and held up a hand. "One: Bullshit. The first thing I see you doing after all this time is murdering a kid. Two: I don't care, Pyra. You could be a saint now. And I'd still kill you. For all the suffering you caused."

Suddenly, there came shouting from the deck of the Maelstrom. Pyra looked back , to see salvagers running about wildly on deck. They had probably sighted the Monoceros in the distance. As she watched, the guild ship pulled away from the risen ship and began fleeing the scene. And then stars shot through her head as Malos took the opportunity to deliver a vicious haymaker to the side of her head. Peals of his vicious laughter echoed around her as she stumbled backwards.

Pyra winced. "Maybe...I would deserve it. Maybe I deserve to die." she murmured. She summoned her blade, to her hand, and Malos stepped back warily. "But I have a mission now." And suddenly, she was wreathed in flame, burning her cloak away. Beneath that, she wore revealing red armor the color of her hair.

Malos stepped backward as she advanced towards him, leaving fiery footprints in her wake, her sword held out and at the ready. "Come with me, Malos," she said. "I just want to talk."

"MALOS!"

Both Malos and Pyra looked back, towards the entrance of the ship. There stood Rex and Nia. Rex was holding Malos' blade.

"Nia, you traitor," Jin called out, his voice ice cold, and Nia shivered to see the hollow rage in his eyes. "Do you have any idea what you've done here today?"

With a mighty heave, Rex tossed the sword through the air. Malos caught it in one hand, and immediately bought it down in one smooth arc, striking where Pyra was standing. Sparks flew as Pyra bought her blade up to block it.

Jin stalked around the edge of the two dueling blades, edging closer to Nia and Rex. They both had their eyes on him, weapons drawn, and kept circling to keep the dueling Pyra and Malos between them and him. Jin felt weak, and was feeling weaker by the moment, but all he had to do was get close enough to get a strike in at Rex, and this disaster could be undone…

Suddenly, he flickered forward, dashing across the deck. It was straining him, taxing his power, and he felt pain course through his body, but it would take one strike, just one -

And he growled in frustration as his blade bounced harmlessly off a shield projected by Nia and Dromarch. "You!" he snapped at the Gormotti girl glaring at him.

"Just stop, Jin, please," Nia whispered.

Jin found himself taken aback by the sadness in her eyes. But that didn't stop him from reaching out and grabbing her by the scruff of her shirt, lifting her bodily off of Dromarch. "Why did you do it?" he asked her, as she struggled to free herself from his vice-like grip.

"Because….he didn't….deserve to die," Nia gasped.

"Jin, watch out!" Pyra cried. Jin glanced behind him, to see...the salvager boy holding Malos' sword. He dropped Nia and just barely managed to dodge out of the way in time, into Pyra's arms. He was breathing heavily, now.

"I told you not to push yourself, Jin! Damn it," Pyra snapped. She looked up. Malos was bearing down on her, wielding the sword once again.

"What did she do to you, Jin?" he asked. He swung his sword at Pyra's head, and Pyra only just managed to bring her sword up in time to block it. He began raining wild blows down upon her, striking her blade like a hammer. "What did this mass-murdering-" WHAM "-lying-" WHAM "-sick-" WHAM "-monster, DO TO YOU?"

Pyra winced beneath each blow, then looked up. Malos was focused on her, but the Monoceros had pulled up alongside them. Its guns swiveled, locking on to...the salvager and Nia, who stood back closer to the deck. "Nia, watch out!" she cried.

Nia looked behind her and gasped, and only just managed to get Dromarch to put up a shield before the Monoceros opened fire on her. She couldn't withstand the assault for long though. Rex watched in horror as the barrage of explosions shattered the shield, and she was tossed from Dromarch's back, sent flying through the air.

Rex leapt up, his eyes locked on her, dashing across the deck. She was headed to be sent flying clear over the other side. He dove over the side, firing his grappling hook into the railing of the deck, catching her moments before she landed in the cloud sea, and was left dangling off the side of the ship, holding her prone form beneath his arm. "Well, shit," he muttered.

Back up on deck, Malos turned around and glared balefully at the Monoceros, summoning his own shield, which shuddered under yet another withering barrage by the ship. "Well, shit," he muttered. He glanced behind him. Pyra had already used the opportunity to retreat to a safe distance with Jin. This was bad. He might be an Aegis, but he couldn't withstand an artillery barrage by a warship, not in his current condition.

Suddenly, a large shadow swooped overhead, followed by a bellowing roar, and flames engulfed the deck of the Monoceros. Malos looked up to see a familiar Titan soaring through the skies, looping back around for another assault on the ship. The ships's cannons seemed to swivel back and forth for a moment, as if whoever was operating them was indecisive, and then locked on to the Titan.

"Gramps!" Rex cried, still dangling helplessly on the side of the ship, as the titan swooped in low for another pass.

"Hop on, Rex. Quickly now!" the Titan bellowed, as explosions ripped through the air just behind him. Rex gave his winch a tug, detaching it from the ship's railing, as Gramps passed by beneath him, and dropped onto the Titan's back, still holding Nia. As Gramps circled around the front of the ship, Malos and Dromarch leapt over the railing and onto his back as well.

"We better get out of here as fast as possible," snapped Malos. "I don't think that warship-"

Suddenly, everyone shouted as one of the warship's cannons connected with the side of the Titan, and Gramps bellowed in pain and tumbled through the air. Rex just closed his eyes and held on for dear life. But the Titan recovered, and despite the explosions shattering the night sky all around him, headed out into the storm, rapidly disappearing from view, fading into the storm.

Pyra and Jin watched impassively from the deck of the ship as the Monoceros sent barrage after fruitless barrage after the shrinking form of the Titan. Finally the cannons quieted, having decided it was hopeless to hit them from this range.

Jin leaned heavily into Pyra. She looked at his face. It was empty and imperceptible as ever. And then, unexpectedly, completely seriously, Jin said, "Well, that could have gone better." Pyra laughed, and Jin glanced over at her, and cracked a small smile despite himself. "Well. You know. It could have."

"You seem less upset than I expected."

Jin gave a small sigh. "Well, you know. He's just a kid, right? At least we know Malos is awake. I'll have Akhos go after them."

"Alright."

As Pyra helped Jin back to the ship, he glanced at her once more. "It's...not tacky, you know. I don't think so."

Pyra gave a small smile. "Thanks, Jin."


	2. Chapter 2

**1.**

Pyra walked through the halls of the Monoceros, on her way to the rejuvenation chamber, helping Jin as he limped beside her. She was worried about him. He had incredible strength, enough to rival even her at times, but he had been getting sicker and sicker lately. Could it even be described as sickness? Whatever it was, his powers were tearing him apart. Use of them for extended periods, or drawing on them too much, was degrading his core crystal.

Suddenly, Akhos appeared in front of them, brash, cocky, smug, blue eyes flashing behind his glasses in fury. "I can't believe," he snapped, "That after all this, we lost the Aegis. And Nia, after all we did for HER, just stabbing us in the back. I-"

"Akhos," Pyra said, her voice quiet, but the tone immediately making Akhos go completely still. "Did you order the cannons to fire on her? And the salvager?"

Akhos stepped back. "I mean, I ordered them to fire on the salvager. I figured if we could take him out, we could stop...she was just...in the field of fire…Jin, you understand, right?" He made a pleading gesture, then gasped in fear as he looked back up at Pyra's face. Her eyes were dripping flame, her hair floating lazily on a haze of heat.

"Akhos," she whispered, furiously, "She was one of us. We do not just so lightly kill one of our own." She clenched her fist, flames running up it from her hand to her shoulder.

Akhos summoned some spine, and glared at her defiantly. "I mean….why? It doesn't matter in the end, does it? Do you forget what your own mission is?"

"It MATTERS," Pyra roared, and Jin winced as a baking, throbbing heat came off her in waves. "It MATTERS. Every little BIT of it MATTERS, Akhos!" Akhos finally lost his bravado and gasped, almost looking as if he was getting ready to run.

"Enough," Jin snapped, and Pyra looked down at him, flames subsiding, blushing furiously, suddenly ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Jin, I...did I hurt you, I'm so sorry-"

"No. It's fine." Jin's eyes flicked toward's Akhos. Truth be told, there were times when he thought more like the young man. Pyra's empathy...Jin had come to appreciate it. And to appreciate her, more than she could ever know. But there were times when empathy had to take a back seat to practicality. But he would always admire her for her vision. "Pyra, do you mind preparing the rejuvenation chamber? I'll talk to Akhos."

Pyra lingered, her hand trailing down Jin's arm, fingers gently brushing against his. Jin didn't look at her, but he could feel the intensity of her gaze on his face. She was a curious woman, the Aegis. Sometimes looking into those eyes was like staring into the sun. "Alright," said Pyra, quietly, after a moment. She walked away, shooting Akhos a disapproving glance as she did.

Akhos looked after her nervously. "What a lunatic," he muttered. "Are you sure she-"

"ENOUGH," snapped Jin angrily, anger cracking through his icy exterior. Akhos put his hands up defensively. "Can you track Malos?"

Akhos smiled. "I should be able to. I'm sure he has quite the ether signature. Give me and Obrona some time, and we'll find him."

"Good. Get on it. I don't want him to get far."

"And what about Nia?"

Jin stood perfectly still, looking down at Akhos. "Nia's not our concern."

"No. I mean, what if she turns up with Malos and that kid who woke him?" Akhos spread his hands in an apologetic gesture. "You see, I'm certain I could retrieve the Aegis. But if you tell me not to hurt Nia, even if she's with them, well, that makes things a lot harder." His mouth turned up at the corners in a vicious grin. "Jeopardizes the mission, you might say."

Jin had a real distaste for that smile. "Listen carefully," he said finally. "If she's with them, you are to do everything in your power to bring her in peacefully. _Everything_ in your power. But, if that jeopardizes your chances of bringing the Aegis in…."

"I have your blessing to take...terminal measures?" Akhos' nasty smile grew larger.

"Just do what needs to be done."

Jin walked past Akhos, gliding solemnly down the corridor. Akhos watched as he retreated. "Oh, I think this is going to be fun," he said to himself.

**2.**

Rex groaned, blinking. He was looking up at the dense green canopy of a forest. Someone's face was filling his vision, looking down at him. It was Malos, his helmet removed, smiling down at him. "Oh...M-Malos…?" Rex groaned.

And then he yelped and jumped up as a sharp pain stabbed into his side. Malos had given him a swift kick with one jagged mail-plated boot. "Hey! What the hell! That hurts!"

"Oh good, you're awake," Malos said, as if nothing had happened. "I was starting to get bored." He tilted his sword back on his shoulder, other hand on his hip.

Rex rubbed his side, glaring at Malos, then glanced around. "Where….are we?"

"Hell if I know. A pretty large Titan, though."

Rex shook his head, and memories flashed through it as his thoughts cleared. Nia, being thrown by explosions...Gramps….

"Oh crap!" he exclaimed, looking around in a panic. He spotted his junk sword and rushed to pick it up. "We gotta find them! Gramps! And Nia! They have to be somewhere close."

"Yeah, sure." Malos pointed one sharp-mailed finger at a path of broken trees, a conspicuous path of destruction in the otherwise thick and immaculate forest. "Probably down that way. That Titan of yours looked like it took some heavy hits though, kid."

"He'll be fine," Rex said, trying to disguise the worry in his voice. "I'm sure of it. Come on, let's go."

**3\. **

Dromarch was the first to wake up from the crash. He glanced around himself, his large, dark eyes quickly adjusting to the dark green of the forest, the little green-stained light that managed to break through the thick canopy. They had landed in a swampy marshland, and he had an immediate distaste for the humidity and buzzing flies. He got up, stretching lazily, then padded around in a circle, sniffing through the tall grass, looking for signs of Nia.

He found her a few dozen feet away, splayed awkwardly against a log, against which it seemed she had come to a rolling stop. He nudged her, gently, with his nose. She was still alive, still breathing. She didn't seem to be too badly injured. Maybe some nicks and bruises, and a nasty bump to the head.

Dromarch padded around, then curled up beside her, beginning to let out a low, rumbling purr. Healing waves from the big cat flowed gently into the young Gormotti girl, and it wasn't long before she was stirring, coming to her senses. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gripped Dromarch's fur, groaning. She sat up, looking around herself, then sighed. "Oh, Dromarch." She smiled ruefully. "Looks like we're on the run again, eh?"

"The things my lady will do for a pair of pretty eyes."

"Oh, shut up." She gave the big cat a smack. "I guess we should go and take a look for Rex, and...and then..." Her voice began hitching, and soon Dromarch felt tears dropping into his fur, and then Nia threw her arms around him as she sobbed. Dromarch remained quiet. He knew Nia better than to question her tears. She hated crying, and she especially hated crying in front of other people. It was only Dromarch that she ever felt comfortable showing weakness around.

"I...I really thought we were done running, you know," Nia gasped through her tears after a few moments. "I thought I had found a place...to be. Oh Architect, I am such a damn fool."

Dromarch nuzzled her. "My lady is no fool. Helping Rex was the right thing to do."

"No, not for that. I don't feel bad about that at all. I'm a damn fool for thinking there's anywhere in this world for me." She shook her head again and buried her face into Dromarch's fur. "Haven't I learned yet?"

"You will find somewhere to feel at home someday," Dromarch rumbled.

Nia looked down at his large, dark eyes. _No, you won't,_ a small voice inside of her said. It was a voice that she hadn't ever told anyone about, not even Dromarch. A voice that began speaking to her when she was very young, after her sister had died, a voice that had gotten louder and louder during her time of running. _You don't deserve it, _said the voice. _It's not the world that's bad. Don't you get it yet? It's you. You're broken. There's a reason nobody wants you, why everyone keeps trying to replace you, or kill you. You are bad, you are broken. Like Jin. He was broken too. He was broken, and he was the only person who cared about you, even a little. Broken, like everyone in TORNA was. That's where you belong, with the other broken people. You better just get back to them as soon as possible and pray they forgive you. You know the only alternative, right? You know the only other thing that will stop the endless running, don't you? _The voice retreated as Nia forced it down, back down into the depths of her thoughts, before it began going where it had gone before, to the place that frightened her, frightened her because it was so tempting. She just buried her face in Dromarch's fur again and let the tears flow until her mind was blank.

"Alright," she whispered, after some time. "That's enough feeling sorry for myself." She rubbed her eyes furiously, and ruffled Dromarch's damp fur, doing her best to remove any sign that she had been crying. "Let's go. We should find Rex. Knowing that fool's luck, he probably needs me to heal his broken bones again."

As she got up, there came a deep, loud, threatening croak from behind her. Dromarch's fur bristled, and he immediately leapt to his feet. In horror, Nia slowly turned around.

There, at the edge of the marsh, perhaps thirty feet away, was an absolutely massive Brog. The thing must have been ten feet tall. It wrenched itself up from the muck with a loud, disgusting squelch, its lobed, green eyes fixed intently on her. Nia watched in disgust as its throat distended and it let out another massive croak, and then shrieked and scrambled out of the way as it leapt, closing the distance between them with one leap, landing where she had been standing only moments before with a massive thud.

"I don't think we can fight this thing on our own, Dromarch," she shouted. Dromarch nodded, and they both turned to run. But they were unfamiliar with the terrain, and the Brog was more clever than they had given it credit for. The soon found themselves driven up against a cliff wall. Every time they tried to run in a different direction, the Brog would quickly leap, blocking their path.

Nia stared up at the sheer cliff face in despair. She would try climbing it, but it was slick with mold and slime from a weak waterfall trickling down it. She turned around to face the Brog, who was now advancing on them slowly, and she could have sworn it was grinning at her.

Then, before she knew it, Dromarch was roaring, leaping at the gigantic beast. It raised a stubby arm awkwardly, trying to ward off the big cat's crushing fangs and raking claws, then with an awkward half-hop, threw Dromarch to the ground, and slammed one gigantic arm on top of him, leaning it's bulk into it to keep him pinned. Nia drew her twin rings, preparing to attack-

When a dark flash slammed into the side of the Brog, sending it reeling. Nia gaped, open-mouthed, as the knight from the ship swung his dark sword, biting deep into the Brog's flesh, and green, brackish blood flowed from the wound. And then, with a shout, Rex came running across the marsh as well, his junk sword held above his head, and slammed his sword into the Brog as well. "We got your back, Nia!" he shouted.

Nia smiled, then leapt into the fray as well, and between the three of them they made short work of the beast.

Afterwards, Nia helped Dromarch up from the muck. He was pissed, she could tell, at the mud clinging to his fur. "Thanks," she said to Rex, as he wiped the Brog's green blood from his sword with a cloth. "Uh...I suppose this is..."

"Malos." The dark knight cleaned his blade with a swift flick, sending the gore stuck to it spattering across the marsh. "And you're the girl who saved my Driver. I suppose I should thank you for that, myself."

"I'm...Nia," she said, intimidated by the man's intense stare. "It….it was nothing, really."

"We can talk later," Rex interrupted the two. "We still have to find Gramps!" He pointed to a hole in the treeline of crushed and battered trees. "Come on, he's this way, I'm sure of it!"

**4.**

They didn't have far to clamber through the forest before they came upon the body of the Titan.

"Oh no," Nia whispered when she spotted him. The poor beast was sprawled, broken, across the forst floor, various ballistae bolts stuck in his hide, breathing raggedly. She rushed over to him alongside Rex, as Malos stood back, arms crossed, face stone.

"Gramps!" cried Rex, horror in his voice. "Oh no, no no no, Gramps…."

"Rex, my boy," the Titan rumbled, weakly. He gave them both a toothy grin. "I'm….glad to see...you're okay. And you, Nia…."

Nia spread her hands across the Titan's stony hide, attempting to use her healing. But it was no use. "I'm...Rex, they're just so different from us, my healing isn't doing anything, I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay," Rex said, and Nia could tell he was trying to hide the panic in his voice. "It's okay, I've patched Gramps up before. I just need to find some herbs, I need to find-"

"I am….far beyond any healing, blade or human," the Titan rumbled. "It's...quite alright..."

Nia put her hands to her mouth, and tears sprang to Rex's eyes. "Gramps. Don't talk like that. We'll fix you..."

"My boy. We will meet again, in some other life, when the ether wills it." The Titan laid his head down, and closed his eyes. "I'm happy….that I met you. My time...with you...they were the best years...of my life…"

Tears were falling freely down Rex's face now. He sank to his knees and embraced the Titan's hide, spreading his arms wide. "No, please," he whispered. "Please don't go."

The Titan made no response, and exhaled one last time. The only sound now was Rex's sobbing. Nia approached him, tentatively, and put one comforting hand on his shoulder. "Oh Rex, I'm so sorry," she said, fighting back tears herself.

And then suddenly the Titan raised its massive stone head and said, "Actually, you know what, I think I'll be okay."

"…._what," _Rex said.

Behind them, Malos burst into laughter. "Oh, oh man," he cried, wheezing. "Oh, that was too damn good. I can't believe it." He cut off as he continued laughing, struggling to breathe.

Rex leapt to his feet angrily. "WHAT," he yelled.

"The look-on your face-" Malos broke into laughter yet again, pointing at the Titan. "Oh Architect – old man, you are too good – you're killing me here."

"This isn't funny!" Rex snapped, scrubbing his eyes. "I can't believe you'd play a trick like this on me! You..." he glanced over at Nia, and blushed. "You made me cry in front of a girl."

"Oh, get over it," Nia snapped at him. Then she glared up at the Titan. "That was a pretty dirty trick though. And you, stop laughing!" she hissed at Malos. In response, Malos laughed even harder.

"Oh...I didn't intend any trick," said the Titan. "I did think I was gone for a bit there. But you know, I am feeling better. Look, I am still rather injured." He nodded toward the spears embedded in his hide. "Do you mind…?"

Malos, once he was done laughing, and Rex, working together, removed the ballistae bolts from the Titan. Rex and Nia foraged around for some healing herbs to stuff in the wounds, although honestly, Nia doubted the efficacy of them.

"Ah, that feels much better," Gramps said, once they had finished. "Although, you know, I do feel too weak to move, still. What would be best for me, I believe, is to spend some time in the Cloud Ocean."

Malos scratched his chin, then walked to a patch of trees, peering through them. He raised his right hand, and a blast of dark fire blew away shrubbery and trees with an awful roar, revealing a small inlet beyond them, a hill only twenty feet long leading directly into the Cloud Ocean. "Well, there it is," he shrugged. "Although, if you can't move, I don't know how you're going to get there. There's no way I can haul your fat ass over there alone."

"Ah." The Titan grimaced. "So close, and yet so far…."

Rex wiped the sweat from his brow, then looked up at the sky. It was illuminated with a deepening orange and rose hue. "It looks like night's falling," he said. "I guess this is as good a place to set up camp as any. Get our bearings, figure out what to do about Gramps."

"Just start your fire away from me, please!" Gramps rumbled. "I don't want to have to deal with smoke in my eyes."

**5.**

Nia, Rex and Malos sat around a campfire they started some good distance from Gramps, who was snoring lightly in the distance. Darkness had fallen completely, obscuring the forest surrounding them. Rex was poking idly at the fire, while Malos leaned back languidly against a log. Nia sat back, leaning against Dromarch as he curled around her, running her hands through his fur.

"Where do you guys think we are?" Rex asked, once he got the fire going good and hot.

"Oh. I could have told you that. We're in Gormott," Nia replied.

He glanced up at her in surprise. "Oh! That's right, you're Gormotti, aren't you?"

"You just noticing the ears now?" Nia picked up a pebble and flicked it at him. "Yeah, I'd say we're probably around the belly. What do you two plan on doing now, by the way?"

Rex glanced at Malos, who merely smirked and nodded at him. "We're going to Elysium," he said.

"Elysium?" Nia shook her head. "Rex, I told you that's not real-"

Malos interrupted her. "Oh, it's real," he said. "I should know. It's where I was born."

Nia gaped at him. "You...can't be serious. Who ARE you, anyway? Why were you locked up on that boat?"

Malos' smirk grew deeper, and he looked up at Nia and Rex, eyes sparkling. "I," he said dramatically, "Am the Aegis."

Nia and Rex looked at each other. Rex shrugged.

"That supposed to mean something to us?" Nia asked.

"Wh-jeez, don't they teach kids history anymore?!"

"I...uh, I don't think either of us had a conventional childhood," Nia replied. "What's an Aegis?"

Malos rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Come on! Five hundred years ago? The Aegis war? THREE whole titan-countries destroyed? Others wounded?"

Rex's eyes widened. "What, you did all that?"

"No! You know that woman on the ship? Redhead, dresses like a tramp? That's Mythra – well, I guess she calls herself Pyra now. She's the other Aegis. SHE did all that. I was the one who stopped her."

Nia stared at him in shock. Pyra? Doing all that? It didn't seem real, didn't seem possible. The Pyra Nia knew was...well, she could be condescending, but she was also gentle, kind. She hardly seemed to want to hurt anyone at all. She couldn't picture her as a destroyer. Was Malos lying?

Rex whistled. "Well, that sure is something. Who was that guy with her?"

"That..." and suddenly, Malos looked sad. It was an odd expression to see on his arrogant face. "That was Jin. He...fought against her, too, long ago."

"So why is he with her now?"

Malos' gaze flickered over to Rex. "You really have no idea how blades work, huh kid? When a blade's driver dies, they return to their core crystal. They can come back, to a new driver, but they have all their memories wiped. Mythra...Pyra….must have gotten a hold of Jin's core crystal, and had someone knew awaken him, then brainwashed him or something...it's sick, really, seeing him at her side. Although…." And now, Malos looked away, looking sad once more. "I...I dunno. I got the feeling that he remembered me, somehow."

There was silence for a moment, as they all stared into the flickering flames. "So what were you doing locked up in that ship?" Nia asked.

Malos was silent, not looking at her at all. "My former driver locked me up there," he said finally. "Not sure why."

"Well." Nia leaned back against Dromarch and yawned. "I mean, good luck reaching Elysium, fellas. Sounds like you've got one hell of a trip ahead of you."

"Why don't you come with us, Nia?"

Nia sat up and stared at Rex in shock, her eyes wide. "What, really?"

"Well yeah, sure. I'd be glad to have you around."

Nia stared at him, still in a bit of shock. It was still surprising to her, it had happened so seldom, when people said that they wanted her around. And...the idea seemed…stupid as it sounded, it seemed appealing. Even if the quest was stupid and ended up being a bunch of nonsense, it would beat running from place to place with no clear destination in mind, and, a small part of her had to admit, Rex was fun to be around, as silly and stupid as he could be. Maybe it was just some weird lingering effect of having dove deep into the ether to heal him, but...he was…

_More than you deserve, _the tiny voice inside her said. _Rex is good people. What makes you think you deserve to travel with someone like that? You know where you belong, you stupid broken thing._

"You don't want me around," she said quietly. "I'll only bring trouble down on your heads."

"What? Of course I want you around." Nia's heart twisted to see the confusion on Rex's face. She had to get away from him, before she caused him any more trouble and hurt. She had already gotten him killed nearly three times over, the poor boy. No, things were better if she was alone, and he was better off without her.

"No," she said quietly. "I'll...help you get to Torigoth, yeah? That's the nearest town. But after that you're on your own."

Rex looked crestfallen. "But what about you? What will you do?" Nia looked in terror as he shifted closer to her. "Look, Nia, I don't know what trouble you think you'll bring. And I don't know why you were with Pyra and Jin. And I won't ask, if you don't want to tell. But I can tell you're a good person. You saved my life. I'd love to have you along."

Oh, you stupid sweet idiot, Nia thought. He didn't even realize that it was her fault he had been killed in the first place. She had to cut this boy off, distance herself before she hurt him even further. It was better that way. She didn't belong here. "No, sorry," she smiled. "You can go off and find your way to some magical fairy land all on your own." She looked away to avoid seeing the disappointment on his face. "Anyway, I think I should get some rest. Good night."

"Night, Nia," she heard him call sadly as she walked away from the fire, Dromarch trailing after her.

She found a dry place to curl up on, and sank into Dromarch's fur. "I know what you're going to say," she said.

"I wasn't going to say it, because I knew you'd know it."

"Just say it."

"I think traveling with Rex would be a splendid idea."

"I can't."

Dromarch growled in frustration. "I don't know why you do this to yourself, my Lady. I can tell you want to. I wish you wouldn't push away everyone that makes you happy."

"I don't do that to everyone," Nia replied simply. "I've stuck with you, haven't I?"

Dromarch remained silent. But the truth was, he wondered if she would have, had she the choice.

**6.**

In the dark of the night, while Rex and Nia lay snoring, and the embers of the fire died down to nothing, Malos got up, silent as a shadow. He wandered over to where the Titan lay slumbering.

"Hey, Azurda," he called, quietly, shaking the beast's boulder-like knee. The Titan opened up an eye and looked down at him.

"Hello, Malos."

"Long time no see, old man."

"Yes, I suppose it has been, hasn't it?" Azurda shifted so that his head, craned down to look at the black knight. "I wish I could say I was happier to see you."

Malos ignored him. "You know, I was surprised that kid of yours knows nothing about the Aegis war. What with you having lived through it and all." 

"Ah. Well." Azurda looked away, massive stone head swiveling to stare pensively at the Cloud Sea. "It wasn't exactly a happy story now, was it? And...definitely not one with a happy end. I'm sorry, Malos. But I was sort of hoping that it would stay buried in the past, dead and gone, where it belonged. I was sort of hoping I'd never see you again. That I'd never see the ghost and echoes of that dark time come back to haunt us." He shook his head sadly. "I suppose it was a fool's hope."

Malos was silent for a moment. "I...know that the last battle did a lot of damage," he said quietly. "But I was...sort of out of commission after it. And the next thing I know, I'm stuck in that ship. What...happened?"

The Titan was quiet for a long moment. "No," he said after a while. "I don't think you should know just right now. I don't think it's going to to be something you want to hear."

Malos threw his hands up in frustration. "Fine. Some help you are."

"Malos," the Titan called, as he began to walk away. "Wait a moment. You're bonded with my Rex now, yes?"

Malos stopped, without turning around. "Yep."

"And you're off to Elysium? What for?"

"Get some answers, I suppose. And I suppose I'm going to have to stop Mythra again, while I'm at it." Malos spread his hands and shrugged. "A man's work is never done."

"Do you mind honoring a request from an old friend?"

"Yeah, sure."

Azurda fixed him with a penetrating stare, one that made Malos almost lose his footing in shock, so intense it was, the Titan's eyes sharp yellow lamps set into stone, almost as if the beast was staring right through him, seeing right inside him.

"Please," and Malos was shocked again, to hear the honest plea in Azurda's voice. "Malos, please. Please be better this time around. Please. _Be a better person._"

Malos was quiet for a long moment. The request wasn't just a request. It was an accusation. "Was I...that bad…?" He said, mostly to himself. Without answering the Titan, he began walking away once again.

"Oh, and Malos," Azurda called after him. "I, well, I suppose this goes without saying. But you get my Rex hurt, and I'll kill you myself."


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Hey, if you happen to read this, I appreciate reviews or comments, they're motivating

7.

Rex awoke to a cold morning light, stiff from sleeping on the hard ground. He rolled over, noting the still-smoldering embers of the fire. A bit away, he could make out Nia in the early morning light, sprawled out on top of Dromarch, snoring. He got up and stretched, yawning, his back cracking. The ground was covered with a patchy fog. Further away, Gramps still lay, sleeping, his profile like a small hill in the forest. And further along, over by the treeline, stood the solitary figure of Malos, fog roiling around his ankles. His sword was stuck in the ground, his hands clasped over the pommel, as he looked out into the woods. Rex rubbed his eyes and approached him.

"Grab your sword, boy," Malos said as Rex got closer, without bothering to turn around.

"Wh-"

"Go."

Rex threw his hands up with frustration, then trudged back to the campfire to pluck up his junk sword and returned to Malos. When he did, the blade had removed his sword from the ground, tilting it back against his shoulder. He pointed to a large stump on the ground, one that looked like it must have come from some ancient tree, nearly as tall and as wide as Rex was. "Swing at that."

"Hey, Malos, you know, this isn't exactly the highest quality sword," Rex said, waggling the junk sword at him. "I don't think I should be dulling it attacking dead lumber."

Malos rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to teach you something about how blades work here, kid. Just swing at it, as hard as you can."

"Watch this. I bet it does nothing." Rex hefted his junk sword, and with a shout, put as much force behind a swing as he could, aiming at the stump. The sword didn't even pierce the ancient, calcified trunk, instead just bouncing off harmlessly.

Malos was smirking when Rex looked back at him. "Okay. Hmm. Ahmmm." The black knight cleared his throat, as if he was holding in laughter. "Alright, let me clue you in. As blade and driver, we share a bond."

"A...bond?"

"Yeah but don't get dramatic or anything about it. It's an ether bond. It's why you were able to summon my blade to your hand, back on the ship." Malos held up one clawed gauntlet, palm spread outward, and closed his eyes. "It allows me to augment you in battle." And dark, purple flames erupted from Malos' hand. He opened his eyes again. "I will warn you, though. My power is that of destruction. It comes with a price. My previous driver said it was painful to wield, and...I honestly don't know what sort of long term effects it would have on a human."

Rex eyed the dark flame suspiciously. "Is that so?"

"He also knew his duty, and was willing to make the sacrifice." Malos' intense gray eyes drilled into Rex. "I won't force you to use this power. Only if you ask for it."

Rex looked at those flickering dark flames for a few long moments, considering. Then he shrugged. "I'm a pretty hardy guy. Might as well try it out, yeah?"

"Good soldier." Malos smiled, and Rex gasped as the dark flames suddenly appeared on his hands and arms, spreading to cover his junk sword. He could feel the flames as a tingling, low ache in his blood, in his bones. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but...not insurmountable either.

"Not...so bad," Rex said, after he adjusted to the feeling. "You want me to take another swing, I'm guessing?"

Malos nodded. "Go ahead. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

Rex gathered his strength, hefting the flame-covered junk sword above his head, and bought it down with a mighty crash upon the stump in a two-handed, overhead swing. This time, the junk sword sliced through it like butter, sending splinters firing, as it cleaved effortlessly down to the roots. The wood rotted and withered where the dark flame touched it. "Whoa!" Rex cried in simple delight. "Damn, that's good."

"That's not all." Malos plucked up his sword, and held it, hilt outward, toward Rex. "In times of truly desperate need," he intoned, with a sarcastic flourish, "You can use my sword, and channel incredible power through it."

Rex reached out to grab the knight's sword, then pulled back. "Wait. Couldn't YOU just channel the incredible power, or whatever?"

"Nope." Malos shrugged. "It is as my father made me. As he made a lot of blades, actually. Some power can only be accessed when channeled through our drivers. Don't ask me why." He held out the blade again, and Rex grasped the hilt.

The moment he did so, a sharp, piercing pain shot through him, and he gasped. "This is my power, Rex," Malos intoned, as the boy struggled for breath. "This is why it's only for desperate measures. Can you handle it?"

Rex fought back the urge to cry out. It felt like his skeleton was made of lava, like his blood was boiling, like something deep inside him, something vital, was withering. But he gritted his teeth, and beared it, and eventually he adjusted to the feeling. It didn't go away, far from it. But he became less sensitive to it, at least, enough to wield the sword. He turned around and, with a quick gasp, swung the sword towards the stump.

The sword never even connected. A wave of dark, roiling flame rocketed away from him in a cone, with a hollow roar, a squealing scream, as if the land itself was horrified by what was happening. The stump was immediately obliterated, covered in the waves of flame, which just seemed to eat it out of existence. The flames blasted outward, about thirty feet, and in their wake left deep, black furrows in the ground, biting down into the stone beneath. All plant life, all everything in the cone was obliterated, and even dirt seemed to evaporate before it, leaving nothing but a stony scar in the land. Rex gasped, and dropped the sword.

"Pretty cool, eh?" Malos grinned. He plucked up his sword as Rex fell to his knees, breathing raggedly. "I know it hurts, kid. But my former driver seemed to build up a tolerance for it. But, you know, we should probably save this for emergencies, right?"

"Yeah," Rex gasped. But then he raised his head and smiled. "That was incredible, though! With power like that, nothing's gonna stand in our way."

Malos laughed, loud, crude. "You don't know the half of it, kid. Once I….repair myself..." and here, he touched the cross-shaped purple gem built into the chest of his armor - "We'll be able to pull off even fancier tricks." He grinned. "You know, I was worried back on the ship, wondered if you'd even want to try out my power, but I knew I liked the looks of you, kid. Just keep working hard, we'll go far."

Rex laughed and got to his feet, as Malos clapped him on the back. He felt a sort of deep sense of pride at the words of his blade. Malos may look cruel, but...it felt nice to be approved of. He rubbed the back of his head, grinning sheepishly, then noticed Nia standing out across the fog, maybe thirty feet away, her arms crossed, her face bearing an odd expression. "Oh, morning, Nia," he called. "How long you been there?"

"Long enough," Nia said quietly, as she approached. She gave a suspicious glance up at Malos, then turned to Rex. "Hey, Rex, d'you mind, ummm...helping me with something?" She tried to make her look meaningful enough that he'd get her drift.

"Help with what?"

Nia shook her head. The boy was dense. Malos, thank the architect, was mostly ignoring them, taking practice swings with his sword, tossing it lazily in the air. "Just...come help me with something, please."

"Oh, well sure. Should we bring Malos-"

Nia growled and grabbed his hand, stomping away with him before he could turn around and grab the dark blade.

Once they were a good distance away, she stopped, then turned around and glared at him. She looked...rather angry. Rex had no idea what was going on. "So...uh….what do you need help with?"

"You dense idiot. I don't need help with anything, I wanted to talk." She stepped closer to him, staring at him intently. Her gleaming yellow eyes filled up his entire vision.

"Uh, Nia," Rex said, suddenly embarrassed at her closeness. "What-"

"Hush." She reached out with a gloved hand, placing it on the side of his face. Belying her harsh words, her touch was gentle. She closed her eyes,and her face furrowed with concern. "What did he do to you?" she murmured. And then Rex felt gentle healing flowing forth from her hand, pouring through him like a tide, washing over all the places inside him that Malos' dark flame had touched. After a while, she opened her eyes and stepped back. Rex felt much better, the ache in his muscles, the ache in the core of his being gone. "That should be better."

"Huh. Yeah, it does feel better. Thanks Nia." She still seemed upset, though.

"Listen, Rex." Nia pointed to Malos, still swinging his sword off in the distance. "I don't know...what he is, exactly, but..." and then she sighed, and looked at him hopelessly. "Ach, you don't know anything about blades, right. Look. Blades and drivers share an ether bond, yeah?"

"Yeah, Malos said something about it."

Nia glanced around, then motioned to Dromarch. The big cat came padding over and sat in front of her, obediently. Nia put her hand on his head. "Put your hand on mine," she snapped at Rex. He followed her instruction, her small hand swallowed entirely by his, sinking into Dromarch's fur together. "Now close your eyes, and concentrate. Do you feel that? The ether bond between me and Dromarch?"

"Oh. Yeah, neat." Rex could see it, dimly, in his mind's eye, a golden rope running between Nia and the big cat. When he opened his eye, it was almost as if he could still see it, like an after-image on his eyes.

"Thas' what a normal ether bond feels like." Nia was looking at him intently, her hands on her hips. "The one Malos has with you….it's not like any I ever felt a blade have with another human before. And I've seen quite a few blades."

"Well, you know, he is an Aegis. Apparently." Rex shrugged. "Maybe they're just different?"

Nia shook her head. "It's not just that. His...the ether bond...it's about more than just the power shared between you, yeah? But his...it's all twisted. I can't describe it. It's more like a plug than a bond. And he was just pouring his power into you through it."

Rex looked at her for a long moment, then shrugged again."It's all new to me, so..."

Nia stamped her foot. "Rex, he was _hurting you. _I'm a healer, I can tell. It's...it's not supposed to be like that."

Rex crossed his arms, considering. "Yeah. I mean, I could tell it was hurting me. But he told me ahead of time that it would. It's not like he was doing it without warning or anything. He said that's the way to channel his power. And he also said to only use it during emergencies." Nia gritted her teeth as he laughed that stupid carefree laugh of his. "I mean, I think it will be fine, yeah?"

Nia shook her head. Whatever Malos' power had done to him...when she healed him, she could tell it was touching some core part of him, some part of the boy that even she didn't fully have the power to heal. This damn idiot kept running from one suicide to another. It was so frustrating. She bit her lip as she looked at him. Maybe...she really ought to travel with him, make sure he stayed safe...then she shook her head. No, she'd be more trouble than she was worth. It was so damn frustrating, though, to heal this idiot only for him to throw himself recklessly at more pain. "Fine," she snapped. "Fine. It's your life. You do whatever you want." She threw her hands up. "Just...be careful with him, yeah?"

8.

It was midmorning when they had packed up their campsite, dousing the embers completely. Malos had spent a few hours hacking apart the forest between Gramps and the Cloud Sea, so the Titan had a clear path to make an attempt to crawl into it.

Rex winced as he watched Gramps try to make his way to the Cloud sea, scraping his stony hide along the ground, tearing up the grass in his wake. It seemed like he couldn't move his arms or legs very well, and was just inching his way forward, struggling with every foot. That's because of me, Rex thought. Poor Gramps is in this condition because of me.

Finally, he let out a cry of frustration and rushed forward, pushing against one of Gramps' hind legs. "C'mon, Gramps, we can do it together."

Gramps craned his neck back around to look at him, bemused. "Come now. Do you actually think you're helping at all?"

"Seriously, Rex?" Nia raised her eyebrows at him, giving him a skeptical look, standing back and watching the pathetic scene. But Malos just strode past her and put his shoulder in behind Rex.

"C'mon, old man, I'm getting bored sitting around here," he snapped, as he strained against the Titan's hide.

"Woo! Well, at least I can actually feel Malos pushing," Gramps yelped.

It was still a long struggle, but after an hour of pushing and sweating, they finally got Gramps to the edge of the Cloud sea. The old titan slipped into it with surprising grace. "Oh, now that feels good on these old bones," he purred, raising his head above the cloud. "Yes, I believe, just give me some time in here and I'll be much better."

"You sure now, Gramps?" Rex asked, gasping, drenched with sweat.

Nia laughed at him. "Why the hell did you keep pushing? You know you weren't actually helping at all, right? You stupid or something?"

Rex glared at her. "Hey. I wanted to help, even if it was just a little."

"It wasn't a little, it was completely pointless." She crossed her arms and smiled at him. "You're so dumb, it's almost cute."

Rex blushed and looked away. "Whatever." He looked out at the small coast. "Look, Gramps, you just take your time here. We're gonna go visit a town and see if we can't find something to speed up the healing process, yeah?"

Gramps seemed to barely hear him, rolling around luxuriously in the roiling fog of the Cloud sea. "Hmmm? Oh. Yes, yes, that sounds good." He cast a sharp yellow eye at the Aegis. "I expect you to take care of him, now, Malos."

"Gramps! I can take care of myself, you know that."

"Oh yes, Rex. I didn't mean to insult you. But you know you have a knack for getting yourself into trouble." Gramps ducked his head beneath the clouds for a moment and resurfaced, fog rolling off him like thick, slowly drifting snow. "Ahhhh, but that feels good."

Rex turned around and crossed his arms, then glanced at Nia. "You said you knew your way around here?"

"Well, vaguely. The nearest town would be Torigoth." Nia shielded her hands against the sun. "It shouldn't be too far. Let's head this way."

Nia, Dromarch, Malos and Rex began picking their way through the forest. The trail was haphazard, broken. In some places it looked as if it was well used, in others the trail was completely lost in foul-smelling bogs and marshes. Rex glanced nervously out across the waters as they trudged their way through them. He could see giant brogs and smaller, sharp-toothed lizards in the water, watching them with intent, predatory interest, but they seemed too cautious to approached an armed group.

"Hey, Nia," Malos said suddenly, as they were walking, hacking at some thick brush in their path with his sword. "So, I never really asked you. But what were you doing with Pyra and Jin?"

"Hey, Malos," Rex said, disapprovingly. "She doesn't have to tell us. She saved my life, I think we know she's not...I mean...I assume..."

"No, it's alright," Nia said. "I mean, if Pyra really IS some sort of world-killer you're meant to stop, I'd be curious in your place too, yeah? I mean. IF she is."

"She is."

"Right." Nia sighed, swatting flies away from her face. "I mean, I wasn't with them for long, yeah?"

"Oh, so you _were _the rookie of the team." Rex smirked at her. "I knew it."

"Shove it up your arse," Nia replied idly. "While I was there, we mostly just pulled off core heists. I mean, if Pyra is the Aegis you're talking about, she didn't even really seem like she was in charge. That was mostly Jin. And while I was in TORNA, I-"

Malos froze, causing Rex and Nia to bump into him. "Did you say Torna?"

Nia looked up in surprise. "Yeah. That's what they called themselves."

"Like the country Torna?"

Nia and Rex looked at each other again. "I never heard of any country called Torna," Rex said.

Malos threw his hands up. "Come _on. _I know they didn't teach you brats any history, but this is getting ridiculous. I mean...maybe they changed their name...after...no country called Torna?" Malos shook his head, then continued on silently, lost in thought. "Why would Jin…" he muttered to himself.

"So how did you get mixed up with TORNA anyway?" Rex asked Nia.

"Jin re-" Nia put her hand to her chest, blushing, looking away forlornly. "He...recruited me." She looked at him, and Rex was taken aback by the deep sadness in her eyes. "I know...you didn't exactly get the best impression of him. But he can be such a kind person."

"Oh yeah, so kind. I really felt his kindness with his sword going through my back," Rex said sarcastically. Nia simply looked away, quiet.

Malos walked on, lost in his memories. Something didn't quite make sense. Why would Jin, or whoever had awakened Jin again, name his organization Torna? What the hell had happened to Mythra that had changed her into Pyra? He cast his mind back to memories of war, of the day he had defeated her, centuries ago. Was there...truly no trace of Torna left? Not even an echo?

Had that truly been the price of victory?

He shook his head. These kids were useless. He was going to have to buy a history book as soon as they hit town.

9.

They had been hiking for a few hours when they came across the battlefield.

Rex had been in the lead, trudging through a particularly overgrown portion of the path, when, pushing aside a frond, the ground gave way beneath him, and he slipped down with a shout, down a steep slope, perhaps ten feet, into a clearing.

He groaned, stumbling to his feet – and then gasped when he looked up.

The clearing in front of him wasn't natural. It had clearly once been forest. The shattered, blackened remains of trees were scattered all around, their skeletal figures twisting upward towards the sky. The ground had been chewed up by artillery fire of some sort, leaving the clearing pitted with craters. The blackened, half-melted remains of war machines were scattered across the clearing, tanks with barrels pointed haphazardly in all directions.

And the bodies. The field was littered with the motionless, contorted bodies of Urayan and Ardainian soldiers. There was no noise, not even the sound of birds that had followed them throughout the forest. Only a howling wind, blowing nothing but ash.

Rex gasped, and scrambled backwards, bumping into Nia and Malos, who had come up behind him. Malos looked grim, face stone. Nia was pale, eyes wide. "Architect, it's awful," she gasped.

"It's war," Malos replied, his voice betraying no emotion.

Rex got to his feet, and looked over the field of dead bodies and twisted metal. "This…" he shook his head, looking down at his feet. He couldn't bear it. All these people, all gone, all this awful waste. "This is why we need Elysium," he said finally. "To stop..." he cast an arm over the field, sweeping in the scene, his heart heavy. "To stop this. It can't go on."

"As long as there's humans, there will be war, kid," Malos said. Rex ignored him, trudging through the field. There were Ardainian soldiers, with their intimidating, insect-like gas masks and spiked helmets, and Ardainian soldiers, with their humongous, bulky armor. Something caught his eye, fluttering out of the pack of one of the Urayan soldiers. It was a pamphlet. He picked it up. It had an artistic rendering of an Ardainian soldier on the front, their helmet morphing halfway into a skull.

_MOR ARDAIN IS THE CLOCKWORK DEMON SWALLOWING THE WORLD,_ the pamphlet read. _People of Gormott: Urayan soldiers are your friends. We are here to liberate you. We fight for your freedom. _On the inside, it had an illustration of an Urayan soldier and a Gormotti shaking hands, smiling at each other.

"Mor Ardain started this war," Nia said, looking over his shoulder. "I mean, they occupied Gormott long ago, long before this. But they started the war with Uraya this time too."

"They do all this because their Titan is half-collapsed already," Rex replied. Malos glanced up, as if he was about to say something, but kept his silence. "I'm not saying it's right. But...if they don't get land, their whole country will die."

"They didn't have to invade."

"If they didn't, would other countries actually help them out?" Rex shook his head. "Or would they just hold on to what they had, and watch Mor Ardain go under? I don't know. Maybe they would help. Look, I've had my fair share of run ins with Ardainians."

"Oh, I'm well aware."

"But...they aren't bad people. They're just struggling to survive in the only way they know how." Rex let the pamphlet fall from his hands, shaking his head as he surveyed the carnage once more. "This is all such an awful, awful waste."

"You know," Nia said quietly, after a moment of listening to the howling wind, "If the Urayans are launching strikes at Torigoth, it's probably locked down pretty tight. Maybe it's not such a good idea to go-"

And then she froze, hearing the distinct sound of rifles loading.

Rex, Nia, Malos and Dromarch slowly turned around. There, behind them, was a patrol of five Ardainian soldiers, leveling their rifles at them. At their head was a woman whose hair was blue flame, wearing a brilliant blue dress, holding twin swords at her sides.

"So," she said, frowning sternly. "The reports were correct. The Aegis has been awoken." She looked over at Nia with hooded eyes. "And traveling with a member of TORNA. How interesting."

"Brighid!" called Malos, his voice half mockery, and half honest affection. "After all this time. Good to see you again. I see you haven't updated your fashion sense."

"Malos." Brighid sniffed airily. "I see you haven't updated your poor sense of humor."

"Wait, do you remember me?"

"Of course not. But I have entries in my journal written about you." She gave him a condescending glare. "They are not flattering."

"Yeah, you never did warm up to me." Malos leaned his sword back against his shoulder and grinned.

Rex stood by his side with his junk sword drawn, as Nia crouched and grabbed her twin rings from Dromarch. "Listen lady, I don't know what you're doing here, but we don't want any trouble, alright?"

"No trouble?" Brighid said severely. "Then you'd better come with me peacefully. You are all to be placed under the authority of the military governor of Torigoth."

"What the hell! What gives you the right?" Rex shouted.

"You and the Aegis are a special case. He simply can't be left to wander the world. And your friend here is known member of a terrorist organization." Brighid took a step forward, and suddenly her twin swords were wreathed in blue flame. "If you won't come in peacefully, I'm afraid we'll have no choice but to subdue you."

Malos smirked at her. "That journal of yours say anything about who usually won in our little training sessions? I think you know how this will go."

"It says something about you being an overconfident fool." Suddenly, Brighid stepped aside and motioned to the soldiers beside her. "FIRE!"

Rex braced himself for the sharp crack of rifle shots, but that never came. Instead, one of the soldiers leveled an odd, large, tube-shaped gun, and with a FWOOMP, a glowing blue net came flying out of it. Malos dodged out of the way, but Nia, with a shout, found herself suddenly weighed down by the net.

"Agh, what IS this – my ether bond, I can't feel it!" she cried.

"My lady!" Dromarch roared, rushing to her side, before a net slammed into him, tangling him and sending him flying.

"That's an ether net," Brighid said dismissively. "Designed specifically to disrupt the bonds between drivers and blades. You may be an Aegis, but you still play by the same rules we do."

"I'm sick of this," Malos snapped, and suddenly the ground beneath Brighid erupted in a dark flame. She dodged, nimbly, and rushed towards him with swords drawn. They clashed in an explosion of blue and black flame. Rex leapt forward and, with a shout, tackled a soldier who was aiming another ether net gun at Malos.

He marveled with the speed at which he was able to move, and the strength of his blows. It was only a few days ago that a few Ardainian soldiers had been able to completely overwhelm him. Now, he was holding his own against five. The ether bond of a blade really did invigorate him. He could almost see it, now, like he could see Nia's before, as he danced among the soldiers, slamming them with a shoulder here, kicking their legs out from underneath them there. But she had been right – it was different. Whereas Nia's bond with Dromarch looked like a glowing golden cord, this...looked like an oddly woven black rope, bending at odd angles, writhing. But he could feel the power flowing between him and Malos.

"You're holding back on me," Brighid said to Malos as her blades clashed against his. They were surrounded by a wildly dancing circle of their flames. Malos was fighting with a lazy confidence that annoyed her, but she wasn't going to make that lose her discipline. "Either that, or the Aegis isn't as impressive as I wrote in my journal."

"Darling, I'd never," Malos grinned at her, and Brighid wrinkled her nose in disgust. "But let's just say I'm not feeling completely up to speed just yet. But it shouldn't matter." And Brighid doubled over in pain as Malos, still blocking her swords with one hand, delivered a punch to her gut with the other.

"Underhanded. But clever. That's more like it," Brighid said. If Malos didn't know better, he'd even think she was smiling a bit.

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment…?" Malos shrugged, then aimed a heavy swing at her head. Then he glanced over her shoulder. Rex was busy tackling the soldiers that came with her, but up the path was coming a whole damn platoon of them. "Shit," he muttered. "REX! We got more company. We have to get out of here."

"But where?" cried Rex. Malos had to admit he had a point. He had no idea where any escapes were. "And we can't leave Nia-"

Malos only just managed to catch, out of the corner of his eye, the quick movement of a projectile painted with a ridiculous, spiky-toothed face before the world exploded around them.

"What the hell," he groaned, getting to his feet, ears ringing. Brighid was stunned, as well. Before he knew it, another projectile slammed into the ground at the feet of the approaching Ardainian soldiers, exploding and sending them flying. He and Rex both looked in the direction the projectiles were coming from, only to see a small nopon dancing nervously at the edge of a forest, dressed in jean overalls and goggles.

"This way! This way, this way!" it shouted at them, pulling another bomb out of its pack and throwing it. The little guy had pretty good aim, and it landed right at Brighid's feet just as she had recovered, sending her sprawling again with its explosion.

"Rex, that's our cue. We gotta go," Malos shouted.

"Hold on," Rex yelled over the chaos. He rushed over to Nia, and desperately began trying to untangle the net from her.

"Rex, we don't have time!"

"I can't just leave her!"

"Rex, just go," Nia shouted at him from inside the net. The sadness in her eyes cut through him like a knife. "It's better this way. Just go, alright? Forget about me and save yourself."

"REX!" Malos shouted. Rex glanced over his shoulder. Brighid was getting to her feet again, blue flame roaring about her in a whirlwind.

"I'll come back for you Nia, I swear," Rex said. He grimaced, then leapt to his feet, sprinting after Malos as they raced towards the nopon dancing at the edge of the forest.

"Don't bother," Nia murmured, watching him go. "It's better this way."

She couldn't help but smile to herself. Of course it would have ended like this.


	4. Chapter 4

Note: pls review if you read, I like hearing comments. Also what do you think is it better to have "Chapters" of the game broken up into chunks, or to have them released all at once in one big update

10.

Morag stood at the window of her capital ship, watching the Cloud Sea race beneath her. She could just see the Torigoth port in the distance. They'd be landing in a few moments now. It felt good to be back. Though duties required it of her, she never liked to be away from Brighid for very long. She remained perfectly still, hands clasped behind her back, as the massive ship slowed, pulling on her, and came into dock at the port.

With measured, clipped steps, she made her way off the ship. It was a measure of how important that Mor Ardain considered this situation that it had pulled the massive warship away from the front. She walked down the ramp to the port, completely concealing her unsteady sea legs. It wouldn't do for the men to see the Special Inquisitor stumbling.

Greeting her at the port was a small retinue of Ardainian soldiers, led by a particularly handsome man with flashing blue eyes and jet black hair, decked out in the black and white dress uniform of the Ardainian Empire, medals adorning his chest. Colonel Padraigh, military governor of Torigoth, saluted her as she approached. "Special Inquisitor," he said, giving her a small smile. "I hope you had a pleasant voyage."

Morag gave him a small smile in return. In truth, they both knew each other quite well. She had dated Padraigh some years ago, though they had both been too professionally dedicated to their duties to make it work. The breakup had been mutual and utterly without drama, however, and she still respected the man for his unwavering dedication to the Empire. "Oh, Padraigh, let's spare the formalities," she said, fondly. "How are you? It's been a while. Colonel now, is it?"

Padraigh smiled bashfully. "Yeah. I managed to stumble my way up the ranks."

"Oh, I'm sure you deserve it."

The man laughed. "Far be it from me to question the Emperor's judgment. I think it was my skill with a rifle that propelled me through the ranks more than anything else, though." Morag nodded in acknowledgment. Padraigh had always been an incredible crackshot. Almost to a supernatural degree, actually. She had seen him hit a target the size of a fly from a distance that most other soldiers could barely hit the side of a barn. And he reloaded three times as fast as them, as well. It was how he had impressed her on their first date, actually. He fell in at her side as she continued walking forward, through the ranks of saluting soldiers. "How is your brother, by the way?"

"About as well as can be expected." Morag shook her head ruefully. "You know, I assume, that he didn't want this war. The Senate forced his hand."

"Well. Not my place to question the chain of command." Padraigh's face was stone, unreadable. He had always been like this, always willing to serve the commands of leadership, keeping his personal opinions to himself. Morag, though, thought he was probably one of the good ones, one of the ones who didn't like this war either.

"How goes the defense of Torigoth?"

Padraigh sighed, then gestured around him. Morag glanced around at the empty port, and the mostly empty barracks. "We've repelled most of the attacks, and driven the Urayans up into the mountains of Gormott's left shoulder. They're fairly entrenched there, though. As you can see, we have all available ships up there to prevent them from bringing in reinforcements, and most of the men there too. It's been hard going. I barely had the men to spare for the patrols, otherwise..." he winced. "Otherwise, we may have captured the Aegis."

"Don't blame yourself, Padraigh. Remember what it is you're dealing with, here. You and the men can hardly be held at fault for failing to capture him on such short notice." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "How _did _you learn he was here, anyway?"

"Chairman Bana, of the Argentum trade guild, gave me a call," Padraigh said dryly. "Apparently he was involved in the operation that bought him up, somehow. The little creep tried to bribe me for his capture and return. The audacity of those nopon, I swear." He grinned. "I managed to get a description out of him without promising him a damn thing, though."

Morag laughed. "You always were a smooth talker."

"Oh, you do me too much credit." He came to a stop before a large, intimidating, cement building, all sharp angles, barbed wire and sandbags adorning gun nests all along the rooftop – the military headquarters of Mor Ardain in Torigoth. "Would you like to catch some dinner, or get right to interrogating the prisoner? Brighid's in there with her."

"I'll have to take you up on the dinner offer some other time." Morag gave him another fond smile. "It's been nice seeing you, Padraigh."

The Colonel bowed, then turned with a smart clip, and began briskly walking away.

"Hey, Padraigh," Morag called. He turned to look at her, inquisitively. "After the war's over, let's...catch up more, sometime, yeah?" She said. The faintest of blushes stained her cheeks.

Padraigh gave her one of his charming smiles that she remembered so fondly. "Of course. Duty first though, right?" He waved to her as he walked away.

Morag entered the building, finding Brighid waiting for her in the lobby. "Ah, Lady Morag. Good to have you here." Her blade raised an eyebrow at her, a small smile playing across her lips. "Talked to Padraigh, did you?"

"Brighid." Morag nodded. "Yes, it had been a while."

"You know, that man is still as good a shot as ever." Brighid fell into step beside her as they made their way through the harshly lit hallways to the prisoner rooms. "He gets up every morning to drill the men with his expertise. Truly admirable. I can see why you were so fond of him."

Morag cleared her throat. "You know, Brighid, Aegaeon was asking how you were doing, last I saw him." She reached into a coat pocket, and handed her blade a delicately-wrapped package. "He gave this to me to give to you."

"O-oh. He was? He did?" Brighid suddenly covered her mouth, and Morag knew she was hiding a blush. She took the package and unwrapped it, sighing contentedly at the delicate glass bottle revealed. "Sparkly Snow Perfume. That was sweet of him. I'll have to get him something for the next time I see him. The Gormotti have the dearest little carvings. I think he'd really like-"

"Brighid." Morag stopped short in front of a steel door with bars across the window. Brighid cleared her throat, suddenly embarrassed. "This is the prisoner's room, yes?"

"Ah. Yes. I warn you, she's quite the uncouth loudmouth."

Morag nodded, and threw open the door, striding in confidently. Nia sat in a chair, flanked by two Ardainian soldiers, glaring up at her. The room was empty besides a table and another chair. Morag took a seat opposite the Gormotti girl.

"Go ahead and interrogate me, I'm not telling you anything." Nia leaned back, crossed her arms, and looked away. "You're getting nothing out of me."

"So young, to be a member of Torna," Morag murmured, after a few moments. "I assume you must have been the new rookie member we heard about."

"I'm not that young," Nia snapped. "I'm capable enough by myself, yeah? I'm no rookie. You're as bad as Rex."

"Rex? That another member of Torna?"

"Damn," muttered Nia. "No. He was just some idiot who woke up...I mean...damn it!"

Morag smiled primly. This was going to be easier than she thought.

11.

"Damn, damn damn damn," Rex muttered, struggling beneath the weight of the pack he was holding, loaded up with scrap and salvaged sensors.

Malos, carrying a similar pack, though much more easily, glanced down at him. "You want me to carry yours, kid?"

When they had fled into the forest, following their rescuer, the small nopon had shoved these packs into their hands as soon as they reached him. The small, bouncy creature had then led them on a merry, confusing chase through the forest as the Ardainian guards tore after them. It was certainly clever though, and seemed to know what it was doing – the winding, circuitous path through the underbrush had quickly gotten the soldiers off their trail. It had insisted on silence, though, as it led them, craftily, to a small drainage pipe in the side of a cliff, one that apparently led from the forest up into Torigoth proper. It was now bouncing merrily along the tunnel, apparently oblivious to the filth, as Rex and Malos struggled to keep pace.

"No, it's fine, I got it….it's just…." Rex's face contorted with a scowl. "I...I can't believe I left Nia behind. I'm such an idiot. I….could have used your power, I-"

"Whoa, whoa, kid." Malos put a comforting arm on his shoulder. "Hey, if I thought we could have saved her, I would have let you know. But there were more men approaching than even you and I could handle." He smirked. "Don't worry, we'll get your girl back."

"Oh shut up," Rex said, blushing, but he did seem to brighten up a bit. "You think so, though?"

Malos shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I mean, not like we can just march up to the front gates and demand her back, but hey. It may not look like it, but I'm more than capable of acting with a little...subtlety and stealth." He winked, and Rex gave a small laugh, encouraged.

"Alright. Alright, yeah. We'll rescue Nia, no problem." Suddenly he stopped as he bumped into the Nopon, who was standing in their path, looking up at them in frustration.

"Friends want to get caught?" it whispered, quivering with a frantic, nervous energy. "You see these pipes? Carry sound very good! You not keep quiet, everyone in Torigoth hear your conversation! Quiet, please, until we back at my hidey-spot!"

Rex and Malos fell silent as the nopon led them through the winding tunnels, up ladders, down a path more complex than either of them felt like they could have possibly remembered. Malos was about to drop his pack and demand an explanation when, finally, the nopon spun open a hatch, and dim lamplight fell through. "We here!" cried the Nopon, excitedly.

Rex and Malos poked their heads out of the tunnel, glancing around. They seemed to be on the lower level of a city, among some ramshackle, shoddy housing built on a large wooden platform overhanging the cloud sea, hundreds of feet below, built into a cliffside. Flickering electrical lamps lit their path – it was already night time. Rex looked up, and above him, he could see bridges spanning a chasm, with buildings on either side of it. To his left, it looked like a pretty typical town, but to his right, on the other side of the bridges, he could make out some sharp, angular buildings, and what looked like massive artillery guns and anti-aircraft weaponry silhouetted against the night sky, blotting out the stars. Ardainian weaponry, for sure. And faintly, Rex could make out the shape of an absolutely massive Titan warship beside them.

The nopon glanced around, then motioned them into a back alley. After a few twists and turns, he opened up a door to a small shack and led them inside. It opened up into a small, messy kitchen, with pots and pans lying about haphazardly. Rex glanced interestingly at a small screen in the corner, with a mess of wires and what looked like a small controller running out of it, as he dumped the pack he was carrying on the ground. Malos did likewise. "Alright, I think we deserve a bit of an explanation, now," Rex said, as the small nopon turned around and stared up at them with wide, dark eyes, wings trembling.

"Wow," the nopon said, its words hushed with awe. "Tora never think he have real blades and drivers in his home!" He did a little dance while Rex and Malos glanced at each other.

"Tora, that's your name, is it?" Rex said. "Well, I'm Rex, and this is Malos."

"Ooooh, Rex-Rex and Malos, such cool names!" Tora squealed in glee, still dancing about. "Blades and drivers, so cool!"

"No...not Rex-Rex, just Rex...look, what was all this stuff you had us carry here?" Rex opened a bag. It was full of mechanical scrap, devices….and buried beneath the top, Rex spotted an Ardainian helmet. "Wait a minute. Did you get this from that battlefield?"

"Battlefield scavengers," Malos said, with contempt. "They're there in every age, I guess. Prying equipment from the hands of dead men."

Tora stopped dancing and scratched the top of his head with one of his flexible nopon wings. "Yes yes, I take from battlefield. But what is problem? They don't need it anymore."

Rex closed up the pack and looked away, grimacing. "I dunno...just seems a little distasteful, grabbing equipment from dead men for a profit."

"Oh, but this is not for profit!" cried Tora. "Believe Tora, he has very good use for scrap! In fact, Tora's special project is very nearly finished! Scrap he took in today should be enough to get it done!"

"Special….project?"

"Yes," said Tora, in hushed, excited tones, walking them both over to a room that had a ragged sheet draped over it as a curtain. "You see, it dream of Tora….of Tora's entire family, in fact…to be drivers. But...unfortunately..."

"You couldn't," said Malos. Rex glanced up at him. "Not everyone has the aptitude to be a driver," Malos explained.

"That right. Tora, and dadapon, and grampypon...we all try to resonate with core crystal of blade, at some point. Each of us fail." Tora grimaced, then narrowed his eyes in a mischievous, conniving look. "But we not let that discourage us! We can't resonate with blade, we just _build_ _our own instead! _Artificial blade!"

And with that, he dramatically pulled back the sheet, revealing a small room that was covered in brass pipe, wires, with frantically-drawn schematics covering the walls. A small workstation, also covered with a mess of schematics, lay against a wall. And in the center of the room was a large mechanical device, into which was hooked, by a nest of trailing wires...a young girl, with a blocky, mechanical body, lined with glowing orange ether circuitry. She wore a white beret, a red cape, and black and red pantaloons. Her face looked more realistic than her metal body, but examining it closely, Rex could see the joint and seam lines in it. To her back was hooked a large shield with a gigantic drill bit sticking out of it. Delicately attacked to the nape of her cape was a large white flower.

"What..._is _this?" Rex asked. "I mean don't get me wrong, it's seriously impressive. I mean at least it looks impressive, but-"

"This is Poppi! Artificial blade! Lifelong dream of Tora, dadapon and grampypon!" Tora looked away mournfully. "Dadapon and Grampypon...killed when lab attacked one day. Someone jealous of our research. But Tora grab schematics and ether furnace and run away, vow to complete family dream! And dream almost complete! Just need some work with scrap Tora get today, and Artificial Blade Poppy will be ready for activation! Ah, wait, please do not touch-" Tora, who had been dancing with excitement, rushed over as Malos strode through the room to peer inside a bureau whose door had been hanging slightly open. At Malos' touch, the small closet creaked open, revealing a variety of maid outfits other girly dresses. Malos, with a bemused look, grabbed one of the hanging dresses, a frilly maid outfit, and held it up for Tora and Rex to see.

"Ah….Tora can….explain…." Tora said, shame clear in his voice.

Malos eyed the dress up and down, then shrugged. "Hey, what's to explain? It's pretty cute."

"_Seriously, _Malos?" Rex gave him a skeptical look.

"Hey, nothing wrong with cute things." Malos shrugged and put the dress back, then turned around to survey Poppi, hands on his hips, clearly impressed. "Man, I never would have thought you nopon had it in you."

"This is all well and good," Rex said. "But Tora, look, one of our friends got captured by the Ardainians. We need to rescue her as soon as possible."

"Ah! Yes yes! Cute cat-lady, yes? Other driver!" Tora began dancing around, full of energy. "Perfect test run for newly activated Artificial Blade Poppi! You give Tora a few hours to work, he can help you with rescue mission! Oh, this will be so exciting!" He dashed into the kitchen, throwing open the packs and quickly, deftly, beginning to sort through the scrap, disassembling some of the pieces with a frightening speed.

Rex rubbed his head as the small nopon ran back and forth, carrying pieces of scrap that he began bolting on to Poppi. "I...dunno...what do you think, Malos?"

"Seems like as good a plan as any other," Malos shrugged. "Besides, it gives us time to go out and actually find where they're holding her, right?"

"Cat-lady is almost certainly somewhere in Ardainian base," Tora yelled out absent-mindedly as he continued to work on Poppi. "If friends go out, should remain on lower levels of town. Upper levels patrolled by Ardainians, even at night. Might recognize you. Tora has friend, Turuni, lives only a few houses down. Very good at finding information! Maybe has information on your friend?"

12.

Following Tora's directions, Malos and Rex took a short walk down one of the ramshackle alleyways that made up Torigoth's slums. It was late, though Rex wasn't sure of the hour. The streets were mostly deserted, though he did catch a couple of cat-eared figures that furtively fled at their approach, dashing into the shadows. It seemed the Ardainian soldiers didn't patrol the slums that much, making them a hotbed of crime and smuggling. Probably why Tora had set up base there to begin with.

They arrived at their destination, a small shack painted in the sort of garish, haphazard colors that nopon seemed to favor, all fading green, pink and yellow. Rex knocked at the door, almost afraid that it would fall in. After a few moments, a bedraggled-looking nopon, colored a dull yellow, appeared at the door, glaring up at them with bleary eyes. "Ah," he said, irritably. "Give Turuni a moment. Must get decent."

With that, he closed the door. Rex looked at Malos, who shrugged. Suddenly the door slammed back open, revealing Turuni leveling an Ardainian rifle at them in his wings. Rex and Malos held up their hands. "WHAT STRANGERS DOING AT TURUNI'S HOUSE IN MIDDLE OF NIGHT?" shouted the Nopon. "GIVE TURUNI ONE REASON WHY HE SHOULD NOT BLOW YOU AWAY RIGHT NOW-"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Rex said, backing up a few feet. "Wait, we're here for information!"

"Oh." Turuni propped the rifle up at his side. "Why friends not say so before? Come in, come in."

The little nopon waddled back into the shack. Rex and Malos stepped inside. Apparently the small shack doubled as his house and a shop of sorts. The main entrance had a counter lined with hefty stacks of paper. The walls were covered with shelves of books. Malos stared with interest at these as Rex went to the counter with the nopon. At least some of them seemed to be history books. He walked over to examine them as Rex talked with the nopon.

"So. Friend want information. What sort of information?"

"Well...we had a friend who was captured by the Ardainians earlier today. We were wondering if you could tell us anything about her."

Turuni whistled. "Friends want very fresh information. Yes, Turuni knows. Will cost you, though. Let's say, five thousand gold."

"Oh..." Rex said, awkwardly. He hadn't realized that money was to be expected for this sort of thing. "Well, you know, Tora sent us."

"Ohhhhh! You friends of Tora. Why not friends say so! Turuni give you discount. Information cost mere four thousand, nine hundred ninety gold." The little nopon looked up at him expectantly.

"Uh...actually...I'm sorry, I don't have any gold at all."

The smile fell from Turuni's face. "Ah. So you are completely wasting Turuni's time." He reached for his rifle.

"Whoa, stop," Rex cried. "Look, she's my friend. I have to rescue her. Please, can't you find it in your heart to just tell us-"

"Absolutely not," snapped Turuni, grabbing the rifle. "Can't believe Tora sent deadbeats to my house in the middle of the night. You get the hell off Turuni's property-"

But before the nopon could level the rifle at Rex's face, Malos stepped across the shop in a flash, grabbing the barrel. He squeezed, and the barrel crumpled and wood stock splintered in his grip. Turuni gasped in shock and dropped the now useless rifle. "Listen," Malos began.

"I-intruders! Monsters! Assault! Arson! Murder! Larceny!" Turuni cried.

Malos growled in frustration, then picked the little nopon up bodily and pinned him against the wall. "Malos, wait!" Rex cried, but Malos ignored him.

"_Listen," _Malos began again, and Turuni fell silent. "Here's how this is going to go. You're going to tell us everything you know about the girl, and we won't destroy your shop."

"_Stop," _Rex said, his voice firm.

Malos glanced down at him. The boy was glaring at him with fire in his eyes. He really was just like Addam. "You want to rescue Nia, or not?" Malos asked, quietly. "We may not have much time."

Rex suddenly looked much more unsure of himself. "I...yeah. Alright, look, _this _is how it's going to go. You tell us where Nia is, and...I give you my solemn promise, that I will send you _ten thousand_ gold as soon as I am able. Sound good?"

"And if Turuni refuses?" the trembling little nopon asked. Malos grinned, and gave him a subtle squeeze. "Okay! Okay! Turuni hear about cat-lady captured this morning. She being held on big Ardainian warship, only one in harbor."

"Alright," Rex said, "that's great, that's helpful! We can-"

"Ardainians execute her tomorrow morning."

Rex felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. "R-really," he stuttered.

Turuni pointed to a paper on his counter. "Turuni obtain copy of her death warrant from informant. See for yourself."

Malos dropped the nopon, then strode over to the counter, picking up the paper, scanning it briefly. "Yeah," he said grimly. "He's not lying."

"We...we have to hurry," Rex said, panic rising in his voice. "We have to get back to Tora and tell him to finish up as soon as possible." Malos nodded. Rex turned to Turuni and spread his hands apologetically. "Look, I'm so sorry about….everything. We have to go. I swear, I'll send you that ten thousand gold."

"Tell Tora," gasped Turuni, yelling at them as they exited the shop, "No more discounts for his friends!"

13.

Malos browsed through the history book he had stolen from Turuni's shop as Rex paced back and forth anxiously in Tora's kitchen. The sound of frantic mechanical work came from behind the curtain, and Malos could see the nopon's shadow dancing wildly across it as he worked as quickly as possible. The nopon had promised Rex to work "Double, triple-fast!" the moment he had heard of Nia's impending execution, but it hardly seemed to put Rex at ease.

"Man," Rex said, stopping his pacing for a moment, "You think that maybe we should just go without him? You think-"

"Kid, relax a bit." Malos put the book down and glared at him. "We still have plenty of time. And we're gonna need all the help we can get, sneaking onto an Ardainian battleship."

"Friends!" Tora cried, suddenly throwing back the curtain. "Time of destiny has come! I invite you to witness glorious birth of Artificial Blade Poppi!"

"_Finally," _Rex said, relief in his voice.

Tora tsked at him. "Tora know Rex-Rex is worried about his friend. But cannot rush such a glorious feat of engineering. Come, come."

The three of them crowded into Poppi's room. Tora bounced around, making a few last minute preparations, fiddling with the controls on a large panel composed of hundreds of dials. "Woo! Tora almost forget to change settings. That would have been embarrassing," he said, rearranging some of the wires.

"Embarrassing? Why?"

"Ah – no reason. Never mind. Preparations are complete!" The little nopon danced over to a large lever, placing a wing upon it. "Are Rex-Rex and Malos prepared to witness glorious triumph of science?"

"Well-" Malos began.

"_Of course you are!_" Tora grinned maniacally, then pulled the lever. "Awaken, Poppi!"

Nothing happened for a moment. Then the house shook, like an earthquake, as lightning tore through the sky and struck a lightning rod on the roof. The lights went out, and all Rex and Malos could see, through the flickering light of the lightning, was Tora holding his wings up in triumph. Electricity visibly surged through the house, coursing through the wires, flowing into the small mechanical girl in the center of the room.

Eventually, the surge of electricity ended, and the room was completely dark again. And then two glowing, bright orange eyes flicked open in the darkness.

Malos cursed under his breath in shock. "_Jeez,"_ Rex said.

The lights flickered back on, revealing the glowing eyes to be the freshly-opened ones of the small mechanical girl in the middle of the room.

Tora was dancing and bouncing with anticipation. "Poppi?" he said, leaning forward tentatively.

The small mechanical girl stepped forward, unsteady at first, as if not quite sure how its own body worked, but quickly gained confidence. Her eyes flicked towards the small nopon staring up at her eagerly. "Greetings, masterpon!" she said.

"I….I did it," Tora said, seeming almost surprised with himself.

"Wow, Tora, this is _amazing_," Rex said, hands on his hips.

"Incredibly amazing!" chirped Tora. "Is world's very first artificial blade! Culmination of years of engineering! No one else in the world has technology of Tora's family! Is very big historical moment!"

Malos snorted. "Boy, if only you knew."

"Eh?"

"Nothing." Malos stepped forward, rubbing his chin. "So just how….intelligent is this Poppi, anyway?"

"Intelligent enough to feel insulted by that!" Poppi said, her voice as cheerful as ever. "Does edgy dark blade think Poppi looks stupid?"

Malos stepped back in shock, then laughed. "Well I'll be damned. You really did it." He clapped Tora on the back. "Congratulations. Really. Never thought I'd see the day again."

"So, Tora," Rex said, ignoring Malos' comment, "Is she good to go? I mean, our friend doesn't have much time left."

"Poppi is 100 percent operational and ready to proceed with primary mission of protecting and serving Masterpon in variety of combat, infiltration, and grooming missions!" Poppi said, glancing over at Rex.

"Grooming-?"

"Friends not worry about that!" Tora turned around, dancing nervously back and forth. "Yes, yes, Poppi is ready. And Tora knows perfect way to sneak onto big Ardainian ship. Friends not worry. Rescue mission will go completely smoothly!"

14.

"Oh yeah, that was smooth." Malos glared at Tora, who smiled sheepishly at him.

The nopon had led them on a winding path down the cliffs of Torigoth, out onto a massive root jutting out over the cloud sea, one that bought them close to where the massive titan battleship was docked. The only problem was that it was quite the leap from the root to one of the deck railings of the battleship. Rex had been able to haul himself up onto it using his anchor shot, which was quiet enough, but had barely begun to haul Malos up when Poppi had activated jet boots – jet boots! With a deafening roar, carrying a shocked Tora up onto the deck herself. It was just as well – Rex had needed help hauling Malos up, and Poppi was incredibly strong – but the jets had made a ridiculous amount of noise. Let alone the ship, probably the whole town had heard them.

"Tora is sorry," said the little nopon. "He forget about Poppi's jet-boot capability."

"Didn't you design her?"

"Yes yes. But Poppi the effort of multiple generations of Tora's family. Many parts designed by dadapon and grampypon." Tora scratched the top of his head. In his hands, he carried the shield that had previously been hooked to Poppi's back. "To be honest, Poppi have many abilities that Tora not sure about. Will be great voyage of discovery!"

"Yeah, great," said Malos. He glanced around the deck and then slowly opened the one bulkhead door on the side of the ship, opening up to a dimly-lit, red-carpeted hallway. It was empty, for now. "Well, we should move as soon as possible. If anyone's on this ship, they probably heard that. And _remember,_" he said, glaring at Poppi, "this is a _stealth_ mission."

"Poppi will activate stealth capabilities!" Poppi cried. She crouched down.

Rex rubbed the back of his head. "So...crouching? Is that it?"

"Yep!"

Malos sighed. "Alright. Whatever. Let's get this circus on the road."

The group proceeded into the interior of the ship. As it turned out, they needn't have worried. While Poppi's jet boots had been loud, by sheer luck, they had entered by the massive engine room of the ship. The engine room was a cacaphonous chaos of whistling, howling steam and grinding pistons, dominated in the center by a massive, roaring furnace. There were a few soldiers in there, who must have been practically deaf from working there all the time. The group was able to hide behind clouds of steam, ducking behind boiling steam pipes, to hide from their sight. Malos hadn't lied when he said he was capable of stealth, either. He at least seemed competent at sneaking around. Rex had some experience, too, from his time hiding his salvage from nosy soldiers at Goldmouth.

They managed to make their way through the engine room, up onto an iron metal platform, and up from the bowels of the ship, without being seen. The ship seemed only lightly patrolled. There was a scary moment when a soldier had spotted them, but Malos had managed to tackle the man and choke him out before he could raise an alarm, dragging him out of the hallway and into a janitorial closet. The whole group crowded into the closet as Malos pulled the man's helmet off, revealing a frightened young man with dirty blond hair, staring up at them in trepidation. "Oh, by the Emperor, it's the Aegis," he whispered.

"That's right, the big scary Aegis," Malos intoned. "Now why don't you tell us where the prisoners are. And you better be honest, because if I can't find them in ten minutes," and here he held out a clawed gauntlet, dark flame running up and down it, "I'm going to blow up this whole ship."

The Ardainian gasped, his eyes fixed on the dark flame. "S-second floor," he stuttered. "One floor up from this. H-hallway with blue carpet. P-p-please don't blow up the ship! I have friends here-"

"Don't worry, we're not going to blow it up," Rex said reassuringly. Then he rubbed the back of his head and grinned sheepishly. "Uh, sorry about this."

And with that, he placed a dirty rag in the soldier's mouth to gag him, while Malos tied his hands. They left him, wide-eyed and cursing, muffled, in the janitor's closet, and closed the door.

"One floor up, eh," Malos said, brushing his hands together. "I have to say, this is going pretty smoothly. Maybe we can get through this without-"

"IT'S FUTILE TO RESIST!"

The group turned around to face a group of five Ardainian soldiers, aiming their rifles at them, at the end of the hallway.

"Poppi is sorry. She deactivated stealth capability." Poppi looked down at her feet. "We were spotted."

The group rushed at the soldiers.

15.

Nia sat alone in her prison room on the ship, cross-legged on the floor, staring down at her feet sadly.

This was it. She was supposed to be shipped off to Mor Ardain. From there, she'd probably be sold to Indol. Or maybe they'd torture her in Mor Ardain for information on the rest of Torna. And when they found out what she was, then maybe they'd give her to Indol.

She wished she had Dromarch here with her. She wished she could tell him sorry, sorry for getting hitched to such a burden as a Driver. Maybe she would get a chance to say goodbye to him.

This is what she deserved, though. There was no place for her in the world, nobody wanted her, not really. The only people who ever had, the people who had saved her, shown her kindness, Torna, Jin, Pyra, she had betrayed them. The only people in the world that she found she belonged with, and she had thrown it back in their faces.

She wiped her eyes, refusing to let herself cry. It was no use doing that now. Helping Rex...she still felt, deeply, that it had been the right thing to do. If only she could have asked Jin and Pyra...or made them understand…

Suddenly, hear ears perked up as she heard the sound of gunfire in the distance, and shouting Ardainian soldiers. Could it be?

Nia felt a hope welling up in her heart. Was...this going to be like last time? When Jin had rescued her? She still remembered how awed, how happy she had been when he had found her the first time. How heroic she thought he was. How kind he had been to her, reassuring her that everything was going to be alright.

Would he really come back for her, after everything? Was he...was he only coming back to make sure she didn't give up information on Torna? Or was it possible he actually cared about her? Did he actually want her, want her with him? She had to admit...she missed him. And Pyra.

The sounds of gunshots grew louder, the shouting more frantic. Could it really be happening? Was Jin coming to take her home, after all this? She really did belong with them, didn't she? They might be broken, but she was too, and she belonged with them. They were the closest she would ever have to a home. She looked up at the door as the shouting grew silent.

There was a banging on the door. A loud, groaning creaking, and then with a horrific shriek of tearing metal, the heavy door was torn off its hinges. And beyond it was….

"Rex?" Nia said, incredulously, leaping to her feet. He stood beyond the doorway, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her, incredible relief etched into his face. Malos and….some….weird-looking robot girl stood, with their hands on the heavy metal door, both of them having apparently pried it from its frame. A nopon peered in curiously at her, as well. In a gray blur, Dromarch leapt through the doorway, nuzzling her with an incredibly deep, rumbling purr. She laughed, hugging him. "I don't believe it. What are you guys doing here?"

"Well, come on now, Nia. I told you I'd come back for you." Rex walked in to the room, looking her over. "Always help others that help you, yeah? Rule two of the salvager's code." Then his face grew more serious. "You're alright, yeah? Did they hurt you?"

Nia felt a huge grin growing across her face that she couldn't fight against. "I'm fine, I'm fine. You and your damn salvager's code." She shook her head, almost surprised at herself when she let out a happy giggle. Her heart was lifted so much. "Who're these two?"

"Ah, this is Tora and Poppi. They helped us bust you out of here. Well, I guess, technically, they are in the process of helping us bust you out of here."

"Hey, you two, we can do introductions later," Malos snapped, glancing around. "Unless you want to stick around to be executed."

"Executed?" Nia looked at him quizzically. "Where did you hear I was going to be executed? They told me I was gonna...be shipped back to..." suddenly, fear gripped her heart. Malos seemed to realize the implications at the same time she did, as his eyes widened. "Crap, it's a trap," she hissed. "We gotta get out of here as soon as possible."

The group rushed out of the prison room. The ship was, suddenly, suspiciously empty. Malos tried one of the doors to the outside deck, and found that it was bolted tight. He stopped, and put his hand to his chin, thinking. "They're cutting off our paths, here. They have to know that if they try and lock me on this ship, I'll just sink it." He looked up, groaning. "They're going to try and force us out at the docks. Right into the middle of the Ardainian base. Where they'll have every advantage."

Rex slapped his head. "Crap, of course. The minute that we walk out there, probably every man on base is gonna be waiting for us. Could you tear off these doors, too?"

Malos shook his head. "That prison door was hard enough to tear off. The ones to the outer deck are even more reinforced. Ardainians sure know how to make their ships into damn fortresses. We could sink the ship-"

"_No," _Rex snapped. "What about all the men we knocked out on the way here? They'd be goners."

Malos looked at him, completely stone-faced. "Then we don't have much choice but to walk into their trap, kid. Are you ready for what that's going to mean?"

Rex nodded. "I am. I'm ready to give it my all. We'll fight our way through, I just know it."

Nia felt her heart drop as she saw Rex looking at Malos' sword, determination written on his face.

16.

It was as Malos said. The group found all their paths blocked – except for one, driving them inexorably to the front of the ship, out the main entrance, onto the docks. No more soldiers barred their path. The ship was eerily quiet.

As they walked out the main entrance of the ship, down the plank to the Ardainian base, a grim sight greeted them. Beneath the cold light of the moon, more than two dozen Ardainian soldiers, rifles at the ready, lined the pavement. And at their head was Morag, Brighid, and Colonel Padraigh, himself holding a rifle. Morag held Brighid's twin blades in her hands, and Brighid herself was already glowing with eerie blue flame.

"Tora, Nia," Malos muttered. "You concentrate on blocking the rifle fire with your ether shields."

"Well, Aegis," Brighid called out, voice ringing in the clarity of the night, and Malos grimaced at the smugness in her voice. "Are you ready to surrender peacefully_ this _time?"

"What do you think?" he snapped back at her.

"I would _like _to think that you couldn't possibly be so stupid as to try and fight in this situation." Brighid crossed her arms and glared at him. "I would _like_ to think that you wouldn't be so coarse as to drag children into your fight."

"Hey, lady, are you talking about me?" Rex yelled.

"Or me?" Nia hissed.

Brighid rolled her eyes. "No. I'm talking about the invisible children behind you."

"Invisible children? Poppi heat sensors activated. Scanning," said Poppi.

"I may be young," Rex called out, "But I'm not stupid. I know what you want Malos for. You want him as a weapon in your damn war."

Morag gave him a withering, condescending look. "Don't presume to your elders, boy. Preventing his use is what we want. Preventing the carnage, devastation that he caused."

"Hey," Malos yelled, stepping forward, eyes glaring. "I helped _save_ the damn world. Mythra was the one destroying it."

"Were you now." Morag's voice was harsh, clipped. "It's true Mythra was destroying the world. It's true you stopped her. But Mor Ardain has better records than most about what actually happened during that _final _battle, Aegis." She raised her eyes, and they were cold, unforgiving. "We usually keep good records about how our Emperors died."

Malos fell uncharacteristically quiet. "Hugo….died?" he said, shocked.

"Not only did he die. But we have it in our records, clear as day. It was your attacks that felled him." She stepped forward, her voice rising in anger, pointing one of her swords at him, and Malos found himself stepping back from her accusatory glare. "As if that was not bad enough, we have clear records giving damning evidence that _you _were responsible for a majority of the damage that sank Torna."

Malos was quiet, stunned. "Hugo...was a good soldier," he said, eventually. "He was...prepared...he knew what a battle between two Aegis' might be like..."

Morag felt her anger really rising, now. She knew from the records that Hugo had been young, too young, nearly as young as her brother was, when he died. "He was a child!" she snapped, harshly. "You have a penchant for dragging children into your wars, Aegis! You did it then, and you're doing it now!"

Malos shook his head. All the cruelty, all the arrogance had drained out of his face. He just looked shocked, pale. "No. He...chose, he...he was young, but he understood his duty..."

"His duty?" Brighid stepped forward now. "May the Architect spare us from your world, where children are sacrificed at the altar of duty."

And Colonel Padraigh stepped forward now, not looking at Malos, but rather at Rex and Nia. "Rex. Nia." He sounded fatherly, caring. "I am the military governor of Torigoth. I know you've gotten yourselves in quite a bit of trouble. But this is...beyond anything you should be involved with." He gave a kind smile. "Nia. I will not hold you responsible for the crimes of Torna. And Rex, however you became bonded with the Aegis, I will not hold you responsible for that, either. Surrender, and we'll get you on the right track. You'll be given a chance at a normal life. Your record, wiped clean. That is my offer."

Rex and Nia were stunned. They had been preparing themselves for a battle. They were not prepared for this. Tora glanced, uncertain, between them and the Aegis. Malos wasn't even looking at the scene before him. He was looking down at his feet, his head shaking, as if he was denying something.

The silence carried on for a long moment. Then one of the soldiers gave a shout.

"URAYANS!"

And then the base erupted into chaos. The Ardainian soldiers were yelling, pointing at something in the sky. Rex looked up at where they were pointing. There, hanging low in the sky, was the dark silhouette of a titan warship.

"How did they get past our blockade-" Colonel Padraigh had time to say, before, with a whistling hiss, a rocket streaked forth from the ship and slammed into the pavement, and the whole world turned to hell.

Rex groaned, his ears ringing, as Nia shook him. He had been tossed to the ground by the shockwave from the rocket attack. All around him he heard the sound of gunfire. He glanced up. Nia was looking down at him, panic written on her face. Behind her, he saw one of the massive anti-aircraft batteries of the Ardainians rotate slowly to aim at the Urayan warship, and then fired with a massive, hideous roar. And then, from the sky, he saw another rocket sling down from the warship, flying towards them, and he tried to scream at Nia to move, to get away, but-

And then Malos was standing above them. With one hand, he projected an ether shield that deflected the explosion away from them, and with the other, he yanked Rex to his feet. "We have to go." His face was grim, as grim as Rex had seen it yet, and he had shadows haunting his eyes. "_Now."_

The six of them ran down the ramp from the deck. There was no one to stop them, now. Ardainian soldiers were running, screaming, from the rocket fire pouring from the warship above. Nia screamed as another rocket landed nearby, nearly sending them sprawling with a shockwave, and rubble rained down upon them. Colonel Padraigh had disappeared, probably mounting the defense, and...there had been only a crater where Morag and Brighid had stood.

More rockets rained down. Malos projected the strongest ether shield he could muster as flames wrapped around them. Hollow screams echoed through the air as they dashed across the base, as quickly as possible. They passed by an Ardainian soldier lying on the pavement, screaming, holding a bleeding leg. Nia stared at him in shock, instinctively reaching out, as if to heal him, before another rocket rained down and he disappeared in a sheet of flame and raining rubble. She dropped her hand, trembling, and looked way.

They were almost at the gates, almost having escaped into the dark wilderness of the night, when a sheet of blue flame appeared suddenly, blocking their path.

"AEGIS."

They turned around. Behind them were Brighid and Morag, framed against the burning pyre of the Ardainian base. Morag's eyes shone with a cold, restrained fury. "You talked of your duty, Aegis," she called. "Well, I have mine. And it's to not let you get away. Regardless of this attack."

Malos, still seemingly in shock from what he had heard before, merely held up a hand. "Wait," he said. But there was no waiting. With frightening speed, Morag dashed towards them.

Morag and Brighid moved with a fluid grace, in a frightening dance, passing swords back and forth between them, as they dueled the Aegis. They moved quickly, smoothly, confidently. They concentrated most of their efforts on the Aegis. Rex, Nia, Tora, Poppi, Dromarch, they tried to help, but were hopelessly outclassed. Their strikes were dismissively parried, or blocked by Brighid with a quick flick of her wrist, projecting an ether shield.

Malos was barely holding his own against them. Rex watched, confused. Malos was moving with none of the lazy grace he had in previous battles. He seemed slow, almost confused, as if his mind was only half on the battle itself. He managed parries, and his blows had such raw power behind them that when they connected with Morag's blades, they sent her sliding back a few feet. But he moved...slowly, unfocused. Rex shouted with concern as a flame blast from Brighid sent Malos flying backwards, slamming into the pavement. He ran to Malos' side, looking up with fear as Morag approached. Nia, tried to slow them down, but was dismissively parried, and Tora attacked Brighid from the side, only to bounce harmlessly off an ether shield.

Rex reached out and grabbed Malos' blade, holding it up at Morag and Brighid as they drew closer. "Stay back," he snarled. "You stay back from him."

Morag paused, looking at him with something that almost seemed like pity. "Boy, I hope you understand one day that this is for your own good." She took another step forward.

"MALOS!" Rex cried, raising the sword, and suddenly he felt Malos' power flow into him, like a tidal wave of pain. He gasped, his heart pounding in his chest, as the Aegis sword lit up with a dark purple flame, the same flame that felt like it was eating away at the core of his being.

Morag paused again, stepping back. "What-"

Rex swung the sword, and as the dark flames rocketed out in front of him, he felt the pain seep deeper into him, biting into him, as the whole world in front of him vanished into dark flame. When they cleared, a great, melted slag of _nothing _lay in front of him, and standing just beyond that, looking at him in shock, knocked back against the ground, was Morag and Brighid. "Boy, what has he done to you?" Brighid whispered.

Rex screamed, the pain coursing through him, and managed, with monumental effort, to raise the sword again. "B-back," he gasped. "I...I'll do it….AHHHHHH!"

Brighid reached out, one blue-gloved hand reaching toward him, a look of pity on her face, and Rex, in pain and fear, thought she was readying another attack, and swung the sword again. This time it was a wild swing, and the dark flames did not rocket out in a cone, but rather snaked all around him. They ate into the supports of a guard toward, and Brighid and Morag just barely managed to dodge out of the way as it collapsed around them.

When they recovered, Brighid blasting her way through the rubble, Malos and the group had already disappeared, far into the dark wilderness outside the gates.

17.

The group had run through the wilderness, running until the breath burned in their lungs, scrambling up hills and mountainside in the dark, barely paying attention to where they were going, simply fleeing the sounds of explosions, fleeing the sounds of gunshots, fleeing the feeling of shockwaves thudding through their bodies. Nia rode on Dromarch's back, and hearing the ragged breath in Rex's lungs, the desperate whistling pain in his breath, insisted that he ride behind her. She could feel him, slumping into her back, barely having the strength to hold on, trembling with pain and exhaustion.

"I'm...alright," he mumbled into her ear. "I don't need….to ride…."

"Will you shut up, you absolute bloody stupid stinking moron," she snapped at him, barely containing the rage she felt. "Shut up and take the bloody ride."

Poppi carried Tora, after the latter fell one too many times, and Malos continued on foot, outpacing them all, driving forward mercilessly. The gunfire had long since faded into the distance, the sound of explosions long since disappeared, when Nia felt Rex slipping from her back. She leapt down from Dromarch, catching him before he fell to the ground. "STOP," she shouted after Malos, already far ahead. "STOP, we're stopping NOW."

Malos froze, then backtracked, as Poppi and Tora collapsed next to her as well. "We can't stop now. We have to get away, further away-"

"Yes we bloody well are stopping right bloody now," she snapped at him. She flung a hand out, pointing to the distant lights of Torigoth, barely visible. "I think we're far away enough now, yeah? And Rex can't go any bloody further."

Rex laughed weakly, suddenly coming to. "What are you talking about?" he murmured. "Yes I can. If Malos thinks that we need to, then-"

"You shut your fool mouth," Nia snapped at him. She leaned him back against Dromarch's side.

Malos looked down at Torigoth, blankly, then finally seemed to regain some composure. His face seemed to regain some of its typical arrogance. "I suppose this is far enough," he muttered. He looked down at Rex, then suddenly looked away. "I'll go gather some firewood."

Nia took Rex's hand in hers as the others busied themselves in building camp around them, setting up a small fire a few feet away from her and Dromarch. She reached up, winding her arms around his, touching his face. Rex was breathing raggedly, and as she reached out through the ether she could feel him, stained, hollowed out in some...inexplicable, awful way. She poured her healing into that hollow, roughing out the broken edges of him. It wasn't a simple physical wound that she could easily heal. It was physical _and _within the ether, and she didn't know quite how to completely repair it. It wasn't something she could call upon raw power for. It took a constant, steady flow of healing energy to slowly, gently massage some life into his battered, broken being. She kept her attention on him, watching him intently, until the life flowed back into him, and he was in a restful, healthy sleep.

By the time she was finished, she glanced back. The others were all sitting around the campfire, watching her. "What are you looking at," she snapped. She glanced at Rex, and unwound her arms from around his. "What, you never seen healing before?"

"Nope!" Poppi said cheerfully.

Nia looked at Malos, who was staring blankly into the fire. "Your power is awful, you know that?" she snapped at him. Her rage had died down a bit, but looking at him just bought it up again. To her surprise, Malos looked up at her with hollow eyes and nodded.

"I know. I know it's awful. It's meant to be. That's why I warned him." He shook his head, and looked back at the flames. "Look, I get why you're angry. But I would never let him draw on my power if he didn't ask for it. So save some of that anger for him."

"Oh, don't you worry, I've got _more _than enough to go around."

It was a few hours later, in the darkness of the early morning, that Rex awoke. He glanced around himself, groaning. His muscles ached something awful, but other than that, he felt basically okay. There was a small, dying fire a few feet away. He could see Tora's form, sleeping. Poppi looked to be sleeping, too, using the fat nopon as a pillow. That was weird. Did robots need to sleep? He glanced to the other side of the fire, and there was Malos, slumbering. He seemed to be laying against something heavy...warm, purring….Dromarch? And then he glanced directly next to him, to see Nia staring at him, yellow eyes gleaming in the firelight. "Ah! Nia," he yelped. "You scared me."

"Oh, you're finally awake." Her smile was sweet, her voice gentle. "How are you feeling? Can you walk?"

Rex shook his head and stretched. "I'm feeling...not bad at all. Yeah, I can walk. Why do you ask-"

Nia grabbed his hand, her eyes mysterious in the firelight, looking up at him. "Come with me."

Nia dragged him away from the camp, off into the darkness. The moon had come out now, and illuminated their path. It was still warm, even away from the fire. She led him beneath a nearby tree, then turned around, looking up at him with those large, mysterious eyes, reflecting the moonlight. "Rex," she murmured.

"Y-yeah?"

Suddenly her hand lashed out, slapping him across the face. "I cannot believe you. Who the hell gave you permission to get yourself half-killed coming to get me? I told you to just go!"

Rex rubbed his jaw, glaring at her. "I mean, frankly Nia, I don't actually need your permission to save a friend."

"You _do," _she stamped her foot. "You do need my permission when you're gonna get yourself hurt in the process. This is why I didn't want to go with you. All I was gonna do was bring trouble down on your heads." She let out a wordless cry of frustration, and turned away from him suddenly, so he wouldn't see her as she struggled to hold back tears. "I don't want," she said after a moment, "Anyone getting hurt on my account."

Rex snorted. "I mean. Nia, come on. You heard what they were saying, right? They seem a lot more interested in Malos than you. I think whatever trouble you're going to bring, it's going to be outclassed by the trouble we get into ourselves."

"And that's another thing." She wheeled around and shoved him, sending him a few feet backwards. "I told you to be bloody careful with that man, and instead you go around wielding his power like it's a damn children's firecracker. Is that what seems like 'careful' to you?" She held up her hands as if she was holding a baseball bat. "Lookit me, I'm Rex, I'm gonna kill myself with every swing," she said mockingly, staggering about.

"Hey...look, I had to, right? It's not like I had much choice in that situation."

Nia looked at him in the face for a long, silent moment. He merely stared back at her, eyes filled with quiet determination, and a little bit of amusement. Did he not understand? He had been in that situation because of her. Did he not get how awful that felt? She yelped as suddenly he grabbed her hands. "Wh-what are you doing?" she cried.

Rex shrugged. "Well, this way you can't hit me again." But then he pulled her closer, and her eyes widened. "But I also wanted to ask you again to come with us."

"Oh, what, so I can heal you every time you get your arse fried with spooky dark magic from the bloody Aegis I don't think so you greedy arsehole I can't believe how stupid-" she babbled nervously.

Rex laughed sheepishly. "Well, yeah, that sure is useful. But mostly I want you to come along because...well, I want to help keep _you _out of trouble."

"I don't need your bloody help you presumptuous arrogant twit, hahaha you child how could you think you'd keep me out of trouble, you're so wet behind the ears you're growing mushrooms back there-" Nia continued babbling, her eyes growing wider. Boy, did he look handsome in the moonlight.

"And well. I like having you around."

Nia fell silent, staring up at him.

Rex grinned sheepishly. "What do you say, Nia? Come to Elysium with me?"

Nia extricated her hands from his. She walked a few steps away, breathing out heavily. She looked out into the moonlight. Her mind drifted back to what Brighid and Morag had said. The Aegis, sacrificing children on the altar of duty. The soldier who had died before her eyes. The cruel arrogance on Malos' face.

What if Morag and Brighid had been right? What if war simply followed him, and now he was roping poor Rex into whatever madness he had in store…? Malos' power...sickened Nia to her core. The very idea of a power that ate away at people like that offended every instinct she had to restore and heal, and she hated, _hated _the way it hurt Rex, in the exact way an ether bond shouldn't. But Malos, beneath his arrogance and cruelty, seemed almost sad. For a while there, she was thinking that Rex had doomed himself to be devoured by the man. But….maybe there was something to be done here. Maybe there was something to be saved. Maybe...Rex needed her. She smiled, holding her hands to her chest.

"I must be as stupid as you," she said finally. "Because….oh damn it, why not." She turned around, and shot him a wide grin. "Take me to Elysium, you bloody idiot."


	5. Chapter 5

Note: Hey thanks for the reviews, I enjoy seeing them. Tora is a bit of a hard character to write, just because I think he doesn't translate as well to writing as much as visual mediums. He might feel tacked on because I do feel like I'm rushing through the earlier chapters a bit. I don't want to just re-tell the same scenes from the game itself, because that would be boring, but the story I have planned doesn't REALLY begin to diverge until a bit later on (after the game equivalent of chapter 3, and much more after chapter 4).

As for Nia and Malos, I don't want to give away too much, but my thought was that while they have the dichotomy in terms of goals and powers, they actually have some similarities when it comes to personality. I noticed that while playing the game itself, although it's never really explored to any extent there for obvious reasons, I thought it would be an interesting thing to play with in a Malos/Pyra swap scenario. Basically, while they may be opposed to each other in a lot of ways, they also 'get' each other in a lot of ways, too.

**1.**

Malos got up, stretching, shielding his eyes against the daylight, wincing as it stabbed into his eyes. He looked over across the camp. The ashes of the campfire had long since lost all their fire, they were dead, black, empty. The nopon and his robot still slumbered peacefully on one side of the fire. On the other side, Nia and Rex lay side by side with their backs against Dromarch, Nia's head laying against Rex's shoulder as they slept. Malos raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Cute," he said to himself.

He made his way over to a small ledge, overlooking the hill they had so hastily climbed last night, looking down on Torigoth. Narrowing his eyes, he could just make out the destruction from last night's battle. The twisted wreckage of two Urayan ships lay smashed, blackened, in the middle of the Ardainian base. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like a third one may have been floating out in the Cloud sea. It hadn't been a large attack. Most likely a gambit to eliminate the Ardainian leadership in Torigoth, rather than any real attempt to take the town. And well, it had been a good gambit. Malos found himself wondering if Brighid, her driver, or the military governor were still alive.

He found himself thinking of what Brighid's driver had said. Hugo, dead. Killed by his hand. He cast his mind back, back to the day he had defeated Mythra. The battle had been so...he could just remember the fury, the complete, overbearing urge to destroy her that he had felt, to stop her from destroying anything else, to eliminate her, annihilate her, erase her, the mounting sense of power he felt as the battle turned in his favor, the sense of bloodthirsty triumph, the ease with which power had flowed from his fingertips…

He shook his head. Hugo...he had been so young, so young. But it's not like he had been the one who recruited him. Brighid and her driver had it wrong. Hugo had insisted on coming along, had insisted that as the Emperor it was his duty to protect the world, as young as he might be. Malos had not insisted on it at all. In fact, he had protested against it, at first, though he had warmed up to the boy when Hugo had proved his worth. And Hugo _was_ a soldier. He knew that a battle between the Aegis would likely catch him in the crossfire. He knew the risks, and accepted them, and Malos respected that. Fundamentally, Mythra was still the one at fault.

Still. He had died. And at Malos' hand. It seemed a bit odd to grasp. After all, it was all centuries ago. Either way, the boy would have been dead by now. It just seemed...odd, to think of brave young Hugo, robbed of life. He had been so damn young. He…

Malos shook his head again, clearing away the fog of his thoughts, dispelling the creeping feeling gripping his chest. It did no good to dwell on it. Life was full of suffering and tragedy. Hugo had paid the price to help make the world a better place for others. One tragedy in a long, long list. And like all humans were destined to, he had already faded into the shadows of history. "Good soldier, Hugo," he murmured to himself.

"Hey, Malos. Mornin'."

Rex's voice bought him out of his reverie. He turned around to see the kid rubbing his eyes, staggering toward him, yawning. Behind him, he could see Nia stretching as she slowly awoke, as well.

This kid. He was young, too. Not as young as Hugo, but still young. He….had the same fire, the same spirit Addam had had. But Addam had been a grown man, well into his life. To be honest, Malos would have preferred if his driver had been someone older, this time, as well. His power...was demanding. And he couldn't afford to hesitate to use it, couldn't afford to regret. No one could stop Mythra except him. Malos put his hand to his core crystal, frowning. He could feel the subtle fractures within it, remnants of his last battle with Mythra. Until those healed, he couldn't access his full power anyway, so he had time. But when he was able to...would Rex be able to handle it? He could still remember Addam's howls of agony, remember him begging Malos to stop-

"Morning," Malos said. "Well, it's more like noon now, you know."

Rex gave an embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, sorry...your power uh, really took it out of me. Heh."

"No. It's fine. You did really good, I'm impressed."

Rex's eyes shone with admiration and pride for a moment. "Yeah? You really think so?"

"Sure." Malos tried to fight back an uneasy feeling that he couldn't quite place his finger on. "We're going to need to practice a bit, though. Hopefully in a more controlled environment. Help you build up your tolerance to it. The more practice we do, the less it will hurt to use when you really need it."

Rex beamed up at him, giving him a thumbs up. Malos fought back the disquiet, and pointed out at the Cloud Sea. "Looks like Gormott is pretty close to the World Tree right now. Why don't we try heading out that way?"

"Really?" Rex scratched his chin. "I mean, you know, sailors have all sorts of stories about not being able to get close to the World Tree. I'm not sure what's true and what's just rumor, but I don't think you can just sail right up to it."

"Oh, I've got no doubt there's some weird defenses or something or other going on over there. But...well, I'm the Aegis. I may be able to do something about it. Think of it more as a scouting mission than necessarily getting there right away."

Rex nodded. "Right. If Gramps is feeling any better, he can bring us there. Let me just go get packed up, and then we can figure out how..." his voice trailed off, as he ran back to the campfire and began stuffing items into his pack.

As Malos turned around to watch him, he jumped back in surprise as he noticed Nia standing only a few feet away. "Jeez," he muttered. "You really can sneak up on people."

The Gormotti girl remained quiet, then stepped up until she was only a foot away from him. She barely came up to his chest, but she didn't show any signs of trepidation. She glared up at him as Malos looked down, bemused. "Your power is awful," she said suddenly.

"Yeah. Think you mentioned that before," Malos said, irritated.

She kept glaring at him with those large, angry eyes. "What's with that ether connection of yours? It's all _twisted. _It's not _right._" 

Malos winked at her. "You have to let a man keep some of his secrets."

She folded her arms and scowled at him, and Malos felt himself growing more irritated by the moment. "Rex is your driver. I don't think y'should be keeping secrets from him."

"You mean like your secret?" Malos asked idly.

Nia paled, and her hands dropped to her sides, trembling. "W-what are you talking about?"

Malos' grey eyes bored into her, his cruel smile never reaching them. "Come on now, Nia. I know no normal driver and blade could have bought Rex back from the edge of death like that. He was a dim flame, barely holding on. Most people would have said he was dead already. Even I would have had to go to….extreme measures, to save him. And yet you expect me to believe some normal girl and her normal healing blade rescued him from that?"

Nia merely stared at him, wide-eyed. "I….I-"

"Do you think I hadn't seen your kind before? Flesh-eater?" Malos' smile grew knowing, yet more cruel. "So, who did you have to kill?" His stare grew more intense, and he flicked his gaze over to Rex. "Would you like to tell him?"

Nia put one hand to her chest, the other to her mouth, trembling. "No, no please," she whispered. "No, don't tell him, just...just let me..."

She was afraid of what he might think of her. The girl had probably been hiding it for so long that the idea of telling anyone at all was unthinkable. Malos hadn't actually meant to scare her this much. Maybe things had become worse for flesh-eaters over the past few centuries. He sighed. "Look, my point is we both have secrets. Don't go bugging me about mine, I won't bug you about yours."

She really hated him for that one, he could tell. She was still shaking, and giving him a look of complete scorn. "Fine," she muttered under her breath, turning away. Ah well, Malos thought. Maybe she'd warm up to him eventually. Malos actually liked her. As much as she might bug him, it felt nice to have someone around who was protective of Rex, to a certain extent. He...wasn't actually sure why he felt like that.

**2.**

Nia was busily stuffing things into the saddle-bags on Dromarch's sides, readying to leave camp, when the small robot girl – Poppi, she remembered – approached her, blinking up at her with large, orange eyes. Nia wasn't sure what to make of her, but she had helped rescue her, too, so…

"Oh well...uh, hello there." Nia gave the small robot girl an awkward smile. "I don't think I got the chance to properly thank you for the rescue last night." She felt sort of stupid. Was this thing even...alive? Was it just some tool created by Tora? Was she basically talking to a doll right now?She laughed, awkwardly, as the robot merely continued staring up at her, expressionless. Finally it reached into a pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, holding it out wordlessly. "Oh, uh, what's this?" Nia asked.

"Bill for services rendered!" Poppi chirped. "Masterpon say, 'No free lunch.'"

"A bill?" Nia asked incredulously. She looked at the paper, which contained a long list of expenses, among which were 'Double Triple Fast Work', 'Quintuple overtime', 'Skipped Dinner', 'Maintenance fees', 'Stubbed toe medical treatment', among many, many others. "I...what…what is this? What's this one, 'emotional damages'?"

"Cat-lady snap at masterpon, even after masterpon risk his life to save her! Made masterpon very sad. Gave masterpon much discomfort to hear such language!"

Nia's eyes slowly wandered down to the bottom of the page, where the expenses were tallied up. "THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND BLOODY GOLD?" she shouted, causing Rex and Malos to whip their heads around and stare at her.

"What's all this, Nia?" Rex asked, ambling over.

Nia shoved the bill in his face. "Your...hired help is trying to pin me with the bill."

"Huh? What?" Rex grabbed the paper. His eyes widened as he scanned it. He looked down at Poppi in shock, then glanced around. Tora was gleefully roasting a sausage over the remains of the campfire. "Oi, Tora! What...what is this?"

Tora bounced over, chewing on a sausage. "Oh. Yes. Bill for services rendered, yes? Tora likes helping friends, but help not come for free! Tora has his personal expenses to consider."

Malos tried to look stern, to hide a smirk. In reality, he sort of liked the audacity of the little nopon. "We never discussed this beforehand, you know."

Tora shrugged. "Tora assume it common sense that work not come for free." He took another healthy bite of the sausage and blinked up at the Aegis with those large, dark eyes of his. If Malos didn't know better, he'd swear the nopon had a mischievous little smile of his own. It was so hard to tell with them.

"Look," Nia said quietly. "I….I really appreciate the help. I don't want to give the impression that I don't. But..."

Rex finished for her. "There's...we have no gold, Tora. And three hundred thousand….?" 

Tora scratched his head with one of his wings. "Well. Tora think three hundred thousand is reasonable. Tora...cannot exactly go back to his home, yes? Ardainian soldiers surely on the lookout for him now. Lose big investment, yes?"

Rex had to admit he had a point. The little nopon had seemed so eager to help them, and Rex had been so desperate to save Nia, that he had never stopped to think what he was asking of Tora. "Ah...Titan's foot, I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry, Tora. I never thought..."

"Friend not be sorry! Let's see what we can do about this." Tora snatched the bill from Rex's hands and looked at it, pondering thoughtfully. "First let us apply Tora's friend's discount. Will knock 1% off the bill."

"Ohhhhh, so generous." Nia crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

Tora ignored her. "Next, let us discuss...payment plan!" He looked up at Rex mischievously. "Tora could not help but overhear last night. Rex-Rex...is planning to go to Elysium?"

Nia's eyes widened. "Wait. You heard that?"

"Poppi hear it!" the little robot chirped up suddenly. She pointed to the antennae on the side of her head. "Poppi have hearing greater than any human, nopon, or blade. Not mean to spy, but could not help hearing what Nia say to Rex last night." Suddenly she put her head to the side, and in what Nia could have swore was a mocking manner, cooed, "Oh Rex, take me to Elysium...you bloody idiot." She managed to sound much more affectionate than Nia had been when she said it.

Nia felt her face turning red. "Stop it. Stop it, you little sneak. And YOU, shut up, don't you laugh, don't you dare laugh!" she snapped, as Malos burst out laughing at Poppi's impression.

Tora ignored all this, and rolled up the bill. "Regardless! Journey to Elysium sound like grand adventure. Sound like perfect opportunity to test Poppi's battle capabilities. Tora would gladly pay to go on an adventure like that! So let's reduce bill to, say, 150,000 gold! Now. All treasure we find will be split up, yes? Let us say, an additional 20% of treasure, from total overall treasure, becomes Tora's. We use that additional portion to pay off your bill!" Here, the nopon reached into his overalls, pulling out several charts and graphs. "Tora has already done wealth acquisition analysis for different probabilities of treasure hunting rates. He project you be paid off very quick, yes? Not even a year! Within confidence interval of ninety percent."

Rex crossed his arms, smiling a little. "You know, Tora, if you wanted to come along, all you had to do is ask."

"You're going to agree to this?" Nia asked.

Rex shrugged. "Well, sure. I mean, he's not lying, he did basically just lose his home, yeah? We do owe him for helping us out." He turned to Malos. "What do you think?"

Malos scratched his chin, then laughed. "I think he's a damn good negotiator. I can respect that. Sure, why not?" He shook his head. "We have to watch out or we're going to end up being in debt to nopons for our whole lives."

Tora raised his wings in triumph. "Good good! Deal is settled then. Friends getting quite the bargain! Money Tora gets will go into buying new parts and improving on Poppi, so she is even more helpful to friends! At least 50% earmarked. Other half go to Tora's food budget." Tora turned to Poppi. "Is Poppi excited? Will learn great battle capabilities that dadapon and grampypon built in that Tora has no idea about!"

"Poppi is excited to help masterpon in whatever task he chooses to pursue." Poppi cocked her head to the side, considering for a moment. "As long as masterpon does not skimp on maintenance budget."

**3.**

Shortly, the party was packed up, and ready to leave the campsite. Malos didn't like how obvious their presence here had been – the remains of ashes a clear clue that someone had camped here the night before. Who knew if the Ardainians might be trying to track them? But there wasn't much to be done about it at this point, and it was best if they began moving as quickly as possible.

The first order of business was to make their way back to where they had left Gramps, while avoiding Ardainian patrols and sticking away from the town. This was easier said than done. They were somewhat up the side of the mountain that made up the neck of the Gormott Titan right now. But to get back to where they had left Gramps, they'd have to come down from the mountain and make their way back to the belly. The problem was that Torigoth was surrounded by low ground – swamps, and a long, low, rolling plain. If they traveled through this, they'd would be easy to spot from the town.

Nia and Tora, the two of them being the most familiar with Gormott, came up with a plan, to take a somewhat circuitous route. There was a large, gargantuan tree growing on the far side of the plain, far away from Torigoth. If they came down from the mountain as close to that as possible, and kept the tree between themselves and the town, it would minimize their chances of being seen. And on the far side of the plain, there was another entrance into Gormott's stomach area. They'd end up trudging through the swampy forests of the stomach for much longer, but it would keep them away from the areas that Ardainian soldiers were likely to be patrolling. It was the safest route they could come up with. They could have gambled that the Ardainians would still be in disarray after the attack and that patrols would be lighter, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The path took them dangerously close to what Nia remembered as Tirkin territory, but the small, pudgy bird-creatures were easier to deal with than Ardainian soldiers, and besides, according to Tora, the Ardainians had been much harsher about cracking down on them since the war began, probably not willing to risk dealing with them as a security risk when the Urayans might attack as well.

They set off, Rex and Malos in the lead, Tora and Poppi behind them, the small nopon examining Poppi's movements closely and scribbling furious notes, with Nia trailing a bit in the rear, riding on Dromarch's back.

She found herself wondering just what she had gotten herself into. This was it, wasn't it? It was really it. She was following Rex now, and that meant...she was no longer going to try to make her way back to Jin and Pyra. They had rescued her, but now she had completely abandoned them. She forced back memories of Jin's kind eyes, of the soothing words he had given her when he had rescued her. She knew he could be cold, and a bastard sometimes, but she would always remember the times his stoic face cracked into a smile. She still thought, deep down, that he was a good person.

No more running, either, living on the lam, hiding at night, hoping Indol's soldiers didn't track her down, hoping people didn't discover her secret…all to chase some fool boy's dreams of Elysium. Or, maybe it wasn't such a fool dream. After all, Malos said it existed, and the Ardainians, at least, certainly seemed to believe that he was an Aegis. Maybe it did exist.

She watched Rex as he walked next to Malos, looking up at the blade, laughing and smiling. He might be a bit of a dunce, but he was a good person. And she could tell, watching him, how he had already begun looking up to the Aegis. Well, of course he was. He was still young, had grown up without a father, and along came this damn bloody blade who was confident, powerful, a warrior. Nia knew enough about boys to know they gravitated towards warriors and soldiers. Rex was no different. And...without Malos, he probably wouldn't have been able to rescue her. Nia smiled and squeezed Dromarch's fur. She was still angry, but deep down, it felt...nice, to know he had cared enough to come break her out. But…

_He cares for you,_ the voice in her head said. _He cares for you, because he's a good person and he cares for everyone he meets. And his care for you just made him admire Malos more. It's your fault, now, that he's so attached to the man-_

Nia shook her head, pushing the voice away, which was easier than it usually was, for some reason. She was still highly suspicious of Malos, and it gave her an uneasy feeling in her gut to see Rex looking up to him. But that's part of why she agreed to come along, to make sure…

Her mind flashed back to the tormented scream Rex had given as Malos' power coursed through him-

To make sure that things didn't get taken too far.

It was afternoon by the time they made their way down the side of the mountain and crossed behind the large tree in the Gormott plains, crossing over into Tirkin territory. Tora was right, they really weren't as active as they had been when Nia had last been here. They would spy small bands of them, three or four, watching them from a distance in the tall grass of the plains, furtively squawking at each other, holding their primitive spears and bows, but they always scampered away any time the party came closer. Torigoth itself, far in the distance, was obscured the tree and some rolling hills and cliffs.

Pushing forward, they were able to make their way into a small cave that led down into the forests and swamps of Gormott's stomach. By the time they made it there, though, night was falling, the twilight purple of the sky barely visible through the leaves as it was. They decided to make camp again, and to push on to where Gramps had been in the morning. They chose a dry patch of grass, far away from any of the bug-infested stagnant waters, to make their camp.

Nia jumped down from Dromarch and unhooked her saddle bags from him as the others started the fire. Her blade looked at her with questioning eyes. "You've been flicking your tail all day," Nia said. "I know you want to go out and hunt." Dromarch yawned, displaying his impressive fangs. Nia remembered when she had first realized what a dangerous animal her blade was, shortly after awakening him. She had been intimidated at first, of this beast that had been bonded to her. But he had always been gentle, even doting, with her. While she found it annoying sometimes – she didn't like to feel like she needed watching after – she had come to appreciate him as a protector. "Why don't you go catch something? Just don't leave it at my feet."

Dromarch stretched, lazily, arching his back, then glanced over at the others, Rex, Malos, Tora and Poppi. "Hmmmmm. I suppose you will be safe enough in their company." He got up, padding with a liquid, gliding silence, tail flicking, into the underbrush. Dromarch had to fulfill his hunting instincts sometimes. Nia knew he'd be back while she was sleeping.

She yelped as Rex suddenly plopped down next to her, groaning as he stretched out. "Oooh, what a week it's been," he yawned.

Nia glared at him, then looked around the campfire. Tora was on the other side, using some delicate tools to operate on Poppi's arm, and Malos was leaning back against a log, absorbed in a book. "Yeah, well. I suppose."

"Hey, check it out." Rex reached into his pocket, and produced a pair of shining, rainbow crystals. The colors inside of them danced as the light from the fire flickered through them. "I found these while we were coming down the mountain. Aren't they cool? They're so shiny."

Nia looked at him, then burst out laughing. "Collecting shiny pebbles? You really are a child, sometimes."

Rex frowned at her. "Oh. Alright then. I was gonna give you one, but, hey, I guess they're boring..."

"Well. Hey now. They do look pretty neat. I'll take one."

Rex smiled mischievously. "Oh no. You said they were childish, you don't have to go on pretending to want one just to make me feel better."

"Hey, come on." Nia grabbed at the rocks in his hand, only to have him hold them away from her, clenched tight in his fist, with a grin. "Hey! I said I wanted one."

"But I thought they were childish!"

"Will you – oh, come on!" Nia grabbed Rex's arm, and he laughed as she struggled to pry his hand open. "Ooooh, you – fine! They aren't childish, is that what you want to hear?" She huffed as Rex grinned and then handed her one of the crystals. She held it up to the light, watching the colors dance within it. "Wow, it really is very pretty," she murmured. She looked over at Rex grinning innocently at her. "Um. Thanks."

"Do you know what they're called? You grew up in Gormott, right?"

"Yeah...I guess you could say that." Nia shook her head. "I don't know much about rocks though. And I haven't ever seen these before, either. I don't think they're common in Gormott. Guess you just got a lucky find."

Rex scratched his chin. "Maybe I'm the first to discover them. I think I'll call them, 'Rainbow Rocks.'"

Nia snorted. "Oh yeah. Real creative there. Come on, something this pretty deserves a name a little poetic. How about...um...lessee, 'Crystal Radiance.' Something like that."

"Hmm, no. I think Rainbow Rocks is better."

"They aren't even rocks! These are crystals, Rex!"

Malos looked over the top of his book at Rex and Nia bickering with each other and grinned. He nudged Tora with a foot, and jerked his head towards them. "Hey, Tora. What do you think of those two?" 

Tora looked up from operating on Poppi's arm, wiping the sweat from his brow, and glanced across the fire, crossing his arms. "Tora think Rex-Rex much nicer to Nia than Nia is to Rex-Rex. Rex-Rex like her more than she like him." He shook his head sadly.

"Hah! Shows what you know," Malos said, smiling.

Dromarch returned later that night while everyone was sleeping. Hunting had been poor. Little other than lizards as prey in these woods, and lizards were...bitter. Too crunchy. Perhaps he would get the chance to hunt some Volff in the future. They tasted the best.

He padded over to Nia, who was sleeping peacefully, curled up in a patch of grass, a small smile on her face. In her hand she held a sparkling crystal.

The large cat sniffed at this. Nia rarely smiled in her sleep. He curled around her, purring loudly, and closed his eyes himself.

The party rose early the next day, and, giving the aggressive Brogs infesting the swamps a wide berth, were able to make their way back to their original crash site without trouble by noon. Malos grew more watchful the closer they got to the original site – they had run into Ardainian patrols not far from there, after all – but spotted nothing.

Eventually they came to the small shoreline where they had pushed Gramps into the Cloud Sea a few days earlier. The Titan was nowhere in sight, at first. But as Rex stood on the shoreline, calling out his name, the Titan's head rose from beneath the clouds, yawning.

"Hey, Gramps. I'm sorry, we couldn't find you anything...we uh...ran into quite a bit of trouble, I'm afraid." Rex rubbed the back of his head. "Oh, this is Tora and Poppi, they were a big help."

"Oh, that's quite all right Rex. Some time in the cloud sea has really done wonders for me." The Titan peered down at Tora and Poppi. "A helpful nopon. Now that's something you don't hear of every day."

"GRAMPS! You can't just _say_ that," Rex said, aghast.

"And...my word, what is this girl?" Gramps swiveled his head so that he was staring at Poppi.

"Poppi is artificial blade invented by masterpon."

The Titan's eyes widened in surprise. "An artificial blade, you say? With an ether bond and everything?"

"Poppi's ether bond is currently configured with a maximum capacity of 2,048 ether bytes per second!" Poppi chirped happily. "Connection interference minimal. Lost ether packets: 0."

"Well. I'm...not sure what all that means. But it certainly sounds impressive." Gramps looked over at Nia. "And Nia. Have you decided to stick with Rex after all?"

"Well. Yeah. I mean, someone has to make sure he doesn't bungle things up and get himself killed, right?"

"Hey," Rex said.

The Titan smiled at her. "My sentiments exactly, dear girl. I'm glad to have you and Dromarch along."

"_Hey," _Rex said.

Malos stepped forward. "Hey, old man. We were thinking of taking a little jaunt out to the world tree. Gormott's pretty close to it right now, should only be a few hours of travel. Just a little scouting mission, you know. Try to get our bearings."

The Titan cocked his head to the side, considering this. "Hmmm. Well, you know, you keep hearing horror stories about people sailing too close to the world tree nowadays..."

Malos raised his hand, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I don't expect we'll get to it right away. We'll turn back at the first sign of trouble. Just a scouting mission to figure out what's going on."

"Hmm. Sounds reasonable." With a groan, the Titan pushed himself up out of the cloud sea, revealing his grassy, island-like back. "I'm afraid there's no more equipment or shelter on my back though. It's going to be a bit of a windy voyage."

**4.**

Morag stared grimly at the aftermath of the Urayan attack.

The wreckage of crashed Urayan titan ships still lay strewn about the base, although at the very least they had managed to put out the still-smoldering fires. The pavement of the Ardainian military base was pitted with large, jagged craters from the rocket fire. Several of the barracks buildings remained collapsed, smoldering rubble, along with several guard towers. The anti-aircraft guns, thank the Architect, were still standing.

Across the court, in a relatively unscathed part of the base, Padraigh was pacing back and forth in front of the most terrible toll of all. Scores of dead Ardainian soldiers, lined up in sad, neat rows, faces staring lifelessly at the sky. Padraigh himself had his head and his arm wrapped in bloody bandages. They had been operating with a skeleton crew at the base before the attack, with most of the Ardainian forces high up in the mountains fighting the Urayan incursion. Now, he had barely twenty men here with him. Morag knew he had lined up a lot of these dead men himself.

She approached him, Brighid at her side, and was surprised to find tears streaking down his cheeks. Well, not surprised. Padraigh had always been good to the men beneath his command, truly caring for them. But she had never seen him so shaken before.

He turned around to see her approach, his eyes widening. "Ah. Morag. Ahem." He hastily scrubbed his face. "I...apologize, I..."

She gently touched his arm. "Padraigh. It's okay," she said, softly.

Padraigh gave a bitter laugh. "I was holding it in the entire time my men were here. The minute I sent them out on patrol, I just couldn't stop it anymore. I can't let them see me like this. I shouldn't let _you _see me like this." He looked out across the rows of dead men with despair, pointing one out. "Did you know? Young man, right there, name Kristoff. He...had just married. Took leave a month or so ago, visited home...he had just gotten a letter from his wife that she was pregnant. He was….so happy." He pointed out another man, this one slightly older. "That one. Rael. Was always saving up money to pay for his daughter's medical treatments. She was very sick. Just found out that the doctors had said she would never recover. He wanted to take leave in a month or so...wanted to take her swimming one last time, like she had loved to do when she was a little girl." And he pointed out another one, a large, grizzled, evil-looking man. "And that one. Vulfharsk. Ask any man on base, and they'd say he was the meanest, most unpleasant man they ever met. Loved no one and nothing. And yet...during battle, he saved countless lives. Shot down one of the attack ships, then pushed two men out of the way of a rocket."

"The quality of these men reflect the quality of their leader," Brighid said. "You...are a credit to the Empire, Padraigh."

He smiled ruefully. "Thank you for the kind words. But right now, I...just wish I could be a credit to them." He scrubbed the last evidence of tears from his face. "Right. Well. I do have news for you. The Aegis and his party were spotted by my scouts in Gormott's belly."

Morag wanted to say something more to him, but she knew she had her duty to worry about right now. She nodded. "Excellent. Don't worry about risking more of your men going after him. Brighid and I will take care of him ourselves." She shook her head, remembering the battle. "That poor boy. Whatever the Aegis is doing to him...it can't be good."

"Hold on." Padraigh shook his head. "Unfortunately, shortly after observing him, the scouts witnessed the party disembarking on an unknown Titan out into the Cloud Sea. Sailing in the direction of the World Tree."

"The World Tree?" Brighid put a hand to her face thoughtfully. "What could they be doing heading there?"

Morag didn't know the answer. And they didn't have the time to waste trying to puzzle it out right now. "Padraigh. Do you have any extra ships? I don't want to pursue him in mine, they'd see it from miles off."

"Only my personal skipper." Padraigh grinned at her. "I'll trade you."

"Done."

"What, really?" Padraigh stepped back in shock. "You're going to hand over your capital ship?"

"Absolutely. Not permanently, of course. But I need to pursue them in something small, fast and stealthy. Your skipper is much more well-suited." She stiffened, and looked Padraigh up and down. "You...have my permission, and thus the permission of the Emperor, to use the capital ship as you see fit while I am gone. In battle or otherwise."

Padraigh looked at the hulking, massive shape of Morag's capital ship, undamaged from the attack, eyes widening. "I...well. I can think of a few ways to put her to good use."

Morag gave him the warmest smile she could muster, which on any other woman would look like something barely a step above 'prim politeness.' But he knew her well enough to read the sentiment. "Give them hell, Padraigh."

Padraigh grinned and threw up a the best salute he could muster in his condition. "You too, Morag."

Morag nodded, and motioned to Brighid. "Come. We must leave as soon as possible. I don't want them getting any more of a head start than they already have."

**5.**

The trip on Gramps' back had been quiet, uneventful, for the first couple of hours that they drew closer to the World Tree. Everyone had remained quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Malos merely stared over the side, arms crossed, looking at the World Tree, staring up into its heights, as if looking for something. Rex himself felt nervous – he had heard the horror stories of ships being destroyed by giant sea serpents as they drew close to the World Tree. But if Malos was here, and he said they'd turn back at the first sign of trouble, he was sure things would be alright. And it was actually pretty exciting, to be this close. Nia sat cross-legged, leaning back against Dromarch, toying with the stone Rex had given her. And Tora and Poppi were going over graphs that detailed a projection analysis of net profit versus maintenance estimates for her repairs. As they traveled, the skies darkened, turning an ugly, dark grey, threatening rain at any moment.

As they drew closer, the Cloud Sea began to roil, rising and swelling. Rex had salvaged in the Cloud Sea all his life, and he knew it could have unpredictable currents, but these...seemed strange. Not like any patterns of movements he had seen before. They weren't so violent yet, but...they were only growing rougher as time grew on. "Hey, Malos," he called. "Things getting pretty choppy, yeah?"

Malos glanced at him. "You're the experienced sailor, kid. You want to turn back? It's your call."

Rex was taken aback for a moment. He hadn't really _felt _like he was in charge of this little outing. He looked at the impassive face of the Aegis, then shook his head. "Nah. We're good to keep going for now. Just gotta be careful. Never seen currents like this before."

Malos nodded silently, then returned to staring at the World Tree.

"A ship!" Poppi said, suddenly, pointing out behind Gramps.

Rex leapt up, shading his eyes, looking towards where she was pointing. "What? I don't see anything."

"Look..._harder_," Poppi said, in what Rex could have sworn was a slightly condescending tone. He pulled a telescope out of his back and put it to his eye.

Sure enough, there was a ship following them. A small one, black, with gold trim, Ardainian for sure, carried by a small balloon-shaped Titan. It was hard to make out who was piloting it...at first, but then he caught a glimpse of a bright blue flame on the deck. "Ah, it's that blade and her driver, what did you say her name was?"

"Brighid, really?" Malos squinted off into the distance. "Man. Looks like she found a driver that's as much of a pain in the ass as she is."

"Damn," Rex muttered. "If we turn back now, they're definitely going to intercept and board us. It looks like they're alone, though. I think we could take them..." he shook his head. "Let's keep going for now. Maybe we won't have to, maybe we can lose them in some rough sea patch. I don't think they're gonna gain on us quick enough to reach us before we get close to the tree."

The journey continued, tensely, towards the World Tree, everyone peering behind them from time to time to look for the ship. It might not have been gaining on them quickly, but it was definitely gaining on them – it wasn't long before everyone could see it without the aid of the telescope.

The seas only became rougher and rougher. Soon, the skies erupting with lightning and rain. Swell the size of small hills rocked them up and down with a sickening, lurching motion. Nia grew pale, clinging onto Gramps' back, reaching into her bag to chew on some of that mint-tasting herb Rex had given her. Brighid and her driver weren't giving up. Worse, their small ship skipped over the swells much easier than Gramps could manage to. They were gaining fast now.

"We might have to turn around and fight soon," Rex growled when the ship grew within three hundred feet. "We aren't gonna lose them." He looked around at the World Tree, so very close. It was odd, nothing had seemed to stop them so far. Some storms, sure, and some rough currents, but could that really be all that it was stopping people from getting there…?

Suddenly, Malos stepped back from the side of the Titan. "Oh, crap," he said, pointing down into the Cloud Ocean. Rex rushed over to the side and looked down to where Malos was pointing. There, in the depths, visible beneath the clouds, was a massive, coiling shadow, glowing lights running along the side of it, larger than most Titans, twirling around and around, like...some sort of weird, massive ring...or…a serpent.

"Ophion. The hell is he doing here?" Malos hissed, and then his eyes widened as the shape beneath the clouds began uncoiling itself, rushing towards the surface. "We have to go. We have to get out of here, now. We got our explanation for what's stopping people coming here, kid."

"This really could not have happened at a worse possible time," Rex replied, running his hands through rain-slicked hair. He looked around. The ship pursuing them was… "Whoa!" he cried. It was much closer than he expected it to be. It had somehow gained massive ground while he was looking away. It was maybe a mere fifty feet away now, and he could see Brighid on the deck clearly, along with her driver, readying themselves. "Gramps!" he cried. "Turn around, we gotta-"

With a massive, rushing roar, a giant, purple snake, segmented with coiling ether lines, with what looked like an oddly-shaped, four pronged head, came roaring out of the depths of the Cloud Sea, barely fifty feet from them. Each of the odd prongs on its head was easily, easily bigger than Gramps. And seated between them was a large, glowing green eye, and above that...Rex could barely glimpse it, but...it looked like some sort of oddly humanoid shape…?

"What the hell is that thing?" Nia cried fearfully.

"Artifice Ophion." Malos stared grimly at the beast as it rose, lightning tearing through the sky behind it.

"Ohhhh!" Tora cried, bouncing happily. "Artifice is clearly mechanical in nature! Such advanced technology. Truly fascinating. Poppi, take notes."

"AEGIS!" The ship pursuing them had managed to draw up beside them, and Brighid's driver was poised on the railing, ready to leap.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Malos shouted at her, incredulously. "Don't you see the giant serpent? Does this really seem like the best time to be doing this?"

The driver didn't have time to answer. A low, whining hum was building up from within Ophion, some sort of hollow, metal whirring, until with an intense, hissing, whining roar, light gathered in its eye and boiled forward in a beam of awful, intense light, unlike any weapon Rex had ever seen before. It carved a hole in the Cloud Sea, quickly moving toward them, Gramps only just managing to swerve out of the way in time.

"We gotta get away," yelled Malos, as the rain pelted down and thunder boomed. "I think it's in some sort of guard mode. If we get away, it may stop attacking."

A huge swell roared up from the depths of the cloud sea suddenly, a gigantic, violent wave, like a humongous cliff. Rex gasped as they rose up the gargantuan wave. "Get down and hold on!" he shouted, pushing Poppi and Tora to Gramps' back as they rose almost vertically. He grabbed onto Nia as she rolled past him, wet grass slipping from her fingers, and for an insane moment she was dangling almost straight down, until they reached the top of the wave and gravity corrected itself.

"LADY MORAG!" he heard from the other ship. He looked over. Brighid was reaching out over the deck with one flame-blue glove, reaching out into the Cloud Sea. He could see a dark shape there. Morag, her name apparently, had probably fell off the railing when the wave caught them. But he couldn't worry about that now. There was only one thing he knew of that could cause waves this humongous, and that was the movement of one of the continent-Titans. He stared in shock as an impossibly mammoth shape rose from the Cloud Sea. It was Uraya, the gargantuan, whale-shaped Titan, huge, simply too huge for the eye to take in all at once. It was impossible to even judge the distance to it, so humongous it was.

"Gramps!" he yelled, as sizzling white light went roaring over their heads as Ophion took another shot at them. This was insane. "Gramps, we gotta-"

Suddenly, with an eerie, low, massive groan, like two massive rocks grinding against each other, an enormous orifice opened in the Urayan Titan, and Rex realized they were staring at its gaping maw. With a wordless shout, he collapsed to Gramps' back again, holding down Nia and Tora. Malos collapsed on top of him, helping to hold him down as well, as the Cloud Sea was swallowed into the Urayan Titan's gargantuan maw, sucking them in, the wind howling past them with incredible speed, and the last thing Rex saw, before they went tumbling into the darkness of the Titan's mouth, was its massive rows of teeth, each one the size of a small mountain, as the Cloud Sea, and them with it, poured between them like smoky waterfalls, and then they were tumbling down, deep into the darkness, and Rex lost consciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

Rex came to with a groan, face down against the sharp, rough rocks of some dark, unknown beach, the cloud sea rolling around him like a fog. He pushed himself up on his arms, groggily, and looked behind him. Far, far in the distance, the jagged line of Uraya's maw let only a dim light shine through, not nearly enough to illuminate the vast interior of its mouth. "Architect, what a ride," he muttered to himself, getting up on unsteady feet.

He cast an eye around. It was extremely difficult to see, the darkness swallowing up everything more than ten feet in front of him. But a few dozen feet from the edge of the cloud sea, he could make out an odd, bouncing pattern of thin, orange lights that he eventually realized were Poppi's ether lines.

He trudged to shore, heading towards the lights, and eventually came across Poppi, Tora, Nia and Dromarch. Tora seemed none the worse for wear, cheerfully examining Poppi for damage. Nia, however, had her eyes closed and was leaning back against a piece of storm-smooshed beachwood, Dromarch by her side, nuzzling her.

"Is she alright?" Rex asked worriedly, kneeling beside her.

Dromarch stared up at him with dark, unreadable eyes for an uncomfortably long moment. "My lady will be fine," he said in a low, smooth purr, finally. Rex felt relief as her eyes started fluttering as he watched. One of the perks of having a healer as your blade, he supposed.

"Good to see Rex-Rex!" Tora chirped happily, still not taking his eyes off Poppi. "Tora was worried all his new friends were dead."

"Poppi wasn't that worried." Poppi's orange eyes glowed mysteriously at him. "Poppi has night vision! Could see Rex perfectly fine, just taking nap on some rocks."

"Uh, yeah. Just a nap." Rex got up and cast an eye around the surrounding darkness. "I don't suppose you've seen Malos or Gramps, have you?"

"Poppi scanning!" The small robot girl's head rotated around, turning in unnatural angles. Finally, she froze, pointing straight in a direction back down towards the beach, west of where Rex had trudged up. "Large heat signature detected in this direction."

Rex cast an eye out into the darkness. "You don't mind, uh, guiding me, do you?"

"Guide you...Oh! Poppi sorry. Poppi forget Rex made of weak, fragile flesh with inferior night-vision capabilities." With a small whirr, her eyes slowly began to glow with a bright, yellow light, until they were like a pair of dual lanterns, illuminating much further into the darkness. "Masterpon!"

Tora made a curious humming noise, and popped some inscrutable mechanical panel in Poppi's left leg closed. "Yes, yes, we go. Damage assessment finished anyway."

Rex's eyes darted back toward Nia, who still seemed to be mostly unconscious. Dromarch nodded at him. "Do not worry. I'll be by her side."

Rex nodded, then took off into the darkness, Tora bouncing along beside him, Poppi lighting the path and pointing out the way.

It wasn't long before the light of Poppi's lanterns touched one of Gramps' massive claws, lying curled in the beach. "No, no!" Rex cried, as Poppi's lanterns swung to reveal the rest of the Titan's bodies, lying awkwardly among sharp stalagtites that lined the shore. He was breathing, but it seemed to be shallow. Rex rushed towards his head, where Malos stood as well, looking grim.

"Kid, I..." Malos said, but Rex ignored him, rushing to Gramps' face.

"Rex..." the old Titan groaned, weakly, then grinned.

Rex tried to smile. "C'mon, Gramps...again with this?"

"Should have known...the Architect was trying to call me home...last time," Gramps breathed raggedly. "Should have known...it was just my time...bound to happen eventually."

"Oh, shut up. You'll be fine." Rex spread his arms over the wounded Titan's face, feeling the rough stone of his hide. "You'll be...fine..."

"Masterpon? What is...happening to Titan?" Poppi whispered to Tora, who just shook his head sadly.

"Rex," Gramps groaned. Rex felt tears dripping down his face and just gripped him even tighter. "I'm...glad...I got to see you meet...such wonderful friends."

Malos cleared his throat, but remained silent.

"Don't do this to me, please," Rex whispered. "Please..."

"Goodbye, Rex..." Gramps said, as he laid his head back down against the beach, and his breathing slowed, and then went completely still, leaving Rex kneeling in the sand, silent tears running down his face, looking at his hands in miserable shock.

Malos stepped forward, putting a hand on the fallen Titan's face, respectfully. A long, silent moment passed.

Then Malos began coughing. At least, Rex thought it was coughing at first. Then he looked up, only to see the blade trying to fight back a smile, clearly holding in laughter. Then it dawned on him. "_No," _he said.

"Ohhhhh….ooohhhhhh," Malos gasped, completely unable to talk before he burst out laughing. One of Gramps' eyes peaked open and glanced down at Rex.

"_I don't believe it,"_ Rex roared, leaping to his feet.

"I can't….I can't believe...you got him again," Malos said, gasping between laughs, wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh...oh man...Azurda...too good-" he slapped the Titan on the back.

Gramps grinned at him. "Told you I was a good actor, wasn't I? And you said there's no way he'd buy it a second time."

"I...are you even hurt? _You aren't even hurt, are you?" _Rex said, in incredulous disbelief.

"Oh no, I'm fine." The Titan curled his body around the stalagtites until he was in a much more comfortable, natural-looking position, unfurling and stretching his wings as much as he could.

With a wordless yell, Rex kicked out at one of the Titan's paws, then cursed as his foot connected. It was like kicking a boulder. Gramps gave him a skeptical, amused look. "I...I can't believe you'd do this, how could you do this, _it's not funny!"_ Rex cried.

"I do have to admit, I think Malos is a bit of a bad influence on me," Gramps mused.

"Same as always, eh?" Malos grinned. "You know you love pranks."

"Pranks?!" Rex sputtered. "Pretending to be dead isn't a prank! What the hell is wrong with you?! BOTH of you?!"

"Oh, come now, Rex. It's kind of funny. Admit it, I'm a good actor. And it was kind of nice seeing how sad you'd get if I were gone."

Rex put his hands up in utter disbelief, backing away from Malos and the Titan. "Sick. You're sick. The both of you, sick. It's not funny!"

"Poppi thought it was pretty funny," Poppi chirped.

"See, Rex? The robot has a sense of humor, why can't you? Oh, come on, Rex!" Malos cried, as Rex stormed off back in the direction he came from.

Tora gave Malos a disapproving glare. "Teaching Poppi bad manners," he muttered. Then he went bouncing after Rex, with Poppi trailing after him.

"Oh. Perhaps we went a bit too far." Azurda looked after the retreating figure of Rex.

"Oh, don't worry, he'll be fine, old man," Malos said, walking after them, waving over his shoulder. "Besides, you know you did worse back in the day."

**7.**

Nia found herself in a small room, with no memory of how she got there.

She glanced around. The walls were built of hewn and polished logs, worn smooth with what must have been years and years of polish. A bed with a quilt of colorful yellow flowers was in one corner of the room. But the rest of it...was dark, hazy, indistinct, insubstantial, like smoke, slipping through her perception, like it was always in the periphery of her vision, like she couldn't concentrate on it at all. She looked out the window, but it was total, inky darkness out there.

A knocking sound reached her ears from outside the room.

Nia got up, stumbling towards the door. As she opened it, things became even stranger. The rest of the house was even more fuzzy, indistinct, flickering, as if the features of it were constantly rearranging themselves. There was a set of stairs, however, before her. That much was solid.

The knocking grew louder.

Nia descended the stairs, glancing over to the open door of a room on her left. This one seemed a bit more substantial than the rest of the house. It was, at least, definitely a kitchen. A stove and a table with two chairs could be seen, with a vase with yellow flowers decorating the table. Other features of the room were still fuzzy, hard to focus on, though.

The knocking grew louder, yet more insistent.

In front of her was the front door to the cabin – it...was a cabin, right? Nia felt like she knew this for some reason. The door itself was homely, painted a happy, faded blue, with an inlaid window. She couldn't see anyone outside of it, though. The door shook in its hinges as another series of knocks landed on it. Nia, cautiously, slowly, reached out one hand and opened the door.

On the other side, surrounded by complete darkness, stood Pyra.

"Oh, Nia." Pyra said, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "I finally found you."

And suddenly Nia awoke with a start, her hands flying out, finding purchase in nothing but sand, gasping for breath. Her eyes saw nothing in the darkness. The comforting presence of Dromarch nuzzling her at her side calmed her. Slowly, her memories came back to her. The trip out to the world tree, and the disastrous crash into Uraya's mouth…

"Dromarch?" she asked suddenly. "Where are the others, where's..."

"They're fine, my lady. Tora, Poppi...and Rex. They went looking for Malos and the Titan."

"Oh. Well, that's good." Nia lay back against the log, and tried to remember what had caused her to awaken with such a start. But it was no use, the memory of her dream was already fleeing from her, already fading into nothing. She was distracted, suddenly, by the sounds of Rex cursing and yelling, from too far away to really hear what he was saying. "What the hell?" she muttered. Shortly after, Rex came stomping back, arms crossed, looking furious, followed by Tora, Poppi and an amused-looking Malos. "What was going on over there?" she asked, curious.

Rex glared at Malos, then looked away. "I don't wanna talk about it." He glanced back at her, suddenly. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Nia said, getting up and stretching the stiffness out of her limbs. "That's the good thing about Dromarch here." She looked around, her eyes adjusting, trying to peer into the darkness. "So. Inside Uraya, eh?"

"I guess I should be grateful that nobody was hurt," Rex said, suddenly abashed. "Guys, I'm sorry. I should have been more careful-"

Tora waved his hands dismissively. "Rex-Rex not be sorry. Tora got to observe ancient mechanical construct!"

"Artifice," corrected Malos.

"Whatever." The nopon jumped excitedly in place. "Inspiring piece of technology. Only shame is that was unable to obtain a sample!"

"Well, regardless, it seems like we're stuck." Rex pointed back towards Uraya's mouth, now clenched tight, the barest of light peaking in between the mountainous teeth. "I think it's a bit too dangerous to try flying out of there."

"Well, there's got to be a way out of here somewhere," Nia said, looking around.

The six of them decided to map out the beach they had landed on, with Poppi leading the way. It didn't take very long. The inlet wasn't very large – apparently most of Uraya's mouth was covered with a large lake of swallowed Cloud Sea. The beach extended only a few hundred feet back until it hit a stone wall that, they could only assume, was the back of Uraya's throat. Only one small cave path led into the wall, far too small for Gramps to fit into.

While the others scoured the beach for any supplies they could find – much had been lost from their packs in the crash – Rex wandered over to where Gramps was, lounging lazily at the border of the Cloud Sea, one claw idly drawing patterns in the fog.

"Hey, Gramps. Only way out of here is a cave. Don't think you'll be able to come," Rex said, crossing his arms and looking away airily.

"Oh, Rex, really now. How long are you going to stay mad at me?"

"I dunno. I was thinking, oh maybe, forever." But suddenly Rex uncrossed his arms and grinned at the Titan. "Are you going to be okay here on your own?"

Gramps snorted. "I'm centuries old, my boy. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. I'll find some way out of here, I'm certain. And if I can't find you when I'm out, well. You know where to meet me."

Rex nodded. Fonsett village. "If you can't make it out, we'll come back for you and figure something out." He patted the Titan's claw. "Take care, Gramps. Hopefully we won't have to go too far."

"Rex," Gramps said, before Rex turned to walk away.

"Yeah?" 

Gramps eyed him up and down, as if evaluating something. "Take care of yourself. And listen to Nia. That girl has a good head on her shoulders."

"She's got a temper, is what she has," laughed Rex. "Right. See you around."

The party shortly gathered back together again, having found everything they could have salvaged. While they had picked up pieces of what they had lost, Rex looked along the shoreline, looking for signs of the ship that had followed them, with Morag and Brighid, but found not even the smallest piece of wreckage. Rex found himself hoping that they were okay. They hadn't really seemed like bad people. Pains, yeah, sure. But not bad people.

They struck out into the cave system. As small as the initial tunnel was, the space into which they traveled soon opened up into a much larger cave after an hour or so of walking, lit by the glow of bioluminescent fungi lining the walls, all bright, colorful blues and purples, and a ceiling so far above them they could barely see it.

"Wow, sure is beautifu-" Nia suddenly cut herself off, as her ears perked up as she detected the sound of battle. Everyone else had heard it too, suddenly tense – the sound of hissing steel and shouts, and the roar of some awful beast. It had been too distant, though, to tell where it was coming from -

And then, off in the distance, they saw it: The brief but unmistakable flash of blue flame.

"Let's go," Rex said, and they all rushed towards the place they had seen the blue flame originate from.

**8.**

Morag and Brighid had fallen through the Urayan Titan's teeth into the depths of its gullet, along with Rex. Brighid had fared pretty well, being a blade, diving from the ship as it crashed against the side of the Titan's mouth and tore itself to splinters, making a graceful landing in the internal Cloud Sea.

Morag, however, had done much worse. Not being on the ship itself, she had been dragged under the clouds by the rushing current pouring into Uraya's mouth, her body battered and flung about beneath the waves like a rag doll, then sent hurtling over the edge of Uraya's mouth. Brighid had swum about the internal Cloud Sea for hours, calling her name, before finding Morag miraculously alive, floating limply.

Brighid had grabbed her, and swum to the nearest shore she could see, a small rock ledge with a cave leading into a sheer cliff face. She knew they were in dire straits. Uraya and Mor Ardain were at war, and here they were, one of the highest-ranking Ardainians, sister to the Emperor, and her blade, deep in enemy territory. She did her best to wake Morag, but she was battered about as bad as Brighid had ever seen her. Finally, Morag weakly opened her eyes, still flickering on the edge of consciousness.

"Lady Morag, we need to go," Brighid whispered, her heart rankling at the sight of her driver in such a condition. Morag groaned and covered her eyes at the sight of Brighid's face. Brighid knew exactly why she did it. Morag prided herself on her strength, even when it failed her. She knew how much it must hurt Morag's pride to see the concern on Brighid's face, to feel her body failing her.

Brighid glanced up, and widened her eyes at the sight of dancing lights in the distance. Could the Urayans have already found them? Did they do patrols this far out, in Uraya's gullet? They couldn't afford to wait around to find out. With a huff, she hoisted Morag up as best she could, draping her driver's arms across her back.

"No," Morag groaned, half in and out of consciousness. "I can walk. Put...down."

"With all due respect, Lady Morag," Brighid whispered, "Please be quiet." She glanced nervously at the lights, still bobbing up and down in the distance. They didn't seem to be getting any closer, but she couldn't afford to sit around and wait to see if they would, and she didn't dare call out to them. Sucking in her breath, she squeezed herself and Lady Morag into the crevice on the cliff face.

For a moment there, squeezing through the crevice, she was sure she wasn't going to fit – that they'd get stuck, trapped in this nameless cliff face. Luckily, the crevice opened up into a proper cave not far in. Brighid dragged Morag in so that they weren't visible from the cliff face, then put her down. She honestly didn't know what to do. Unfortunately, she had no healing capability of her own, and Morag was obviously in dire need of care.

Perhaps, she thought, they could rest here a bit. Let Morag regain some of her strength, and then push forward? Was there even anywhere in Uraya that they could get medical treatment for Morag without the Urayan government detecting them? As much as she agreed with Morag about the futility of the war with Uraya, at times like this, she wished the Emperor had been more aggressive about initiating the full-scale invasion of the Urayan Titan. If he had done that already, they might be able to find some forward Ardainian camp.

But the Emperor was always resisting the calls of the Brionac party to expand the warfront to Uraya itself. His argument was that as invading Uraya itself would unite the traditionally more chaotically and independently governed kingdom, creating a much more dangerous foe. Whereas defeating Urayan forces in the field would eventually force Uraya to the negotiating table, where they'd be more willing to agree to favorable food exports. It wasn't going to end well. For the Brionac party, Brighid knew, it was never about extracting food tribute out of Uraya. It was about nothing less than full-scale conquest. As it was, for now, the Emperor had managed to keep the war at a relatively low level of violence, but it couldn't last forever.

Brighid sighed, her thoughts returning to the task at hand. She knew of a couple of Ardainian spy houses in Fonsa Myma, but that could be weeks of travel on foot from here, even months.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a strange, low, growling, chirping sound. Brighid froze, and strained her ears against the complete inky darkness. She could, just barely, detect the breathing of some creature frighteningly close to her. She rose her hand and summoned a blue flame, lighting up the cave.

There, in front of her, was a Riik. A bulky creature, somewhat like a cross between a cat and a bear, with long, saber fangs, and crystals growing haphazardly out of its matted fur. This one wasn't so large, coming up to Brighid's waist, maybe. It looked at her with a peculiar, animal intelligence and curiousity, and let out another strange, chirping bark.

"Go away," Brighid snapped at it. "Go..." and then she looked beyond the Riik closest to her, off into the further reaches of the cave. At the edge of the light, moving in the shadow, she could see, dimly, more shapes. More eyes, reflecting the light, peering back at her. And one shape, much bigger than the others, slowly raising its head and blinking curiously at her. "Oh, no."

She leapt to her feet and picked up Morag, leaning her against her shoulder, keeping one hand extended with blue flame leaping up from it. More Riiks were stepping into the light now, shaking their heads, as if they had just awoken from sleep. Brighid glanced around nervously, wondering where she could go. She didn't want to try to go back out to the cliff face, where the Urayans might find her. Thankfully, at the back of the cave, there was a tunnel leading upward.

She turned back around to face the Riiks, and gasped. While she had been scanning the cave, they had gotten much braver. One was actually sniffing at Lady Morag's boots. "Back!" Brighid barked, blasting the creature with blue flame. It yelped, running away...but only retreating about ten feet, turning back around to stare at her with that same flat, intimidating curiousity.

Brighid began backing out of the cave, towards the tunnel leading upwards, only ever glancing behind herself for a second. The Riiks were following her. Not chasing her. Just following her, standing about ten feet away, occasionally barking to each other, occasionally barking at her.

Brighid made most of her way up the tunnel in this way, into a much larger cavern, one lit by bioluminescent fungus lining the walls, one so large the ceiling couldn't be seen. She was almost at the point of feeling bad for blasting that one Riik with flame. After all, none of these creatures had really been acting so aggressive towards her, and she had sort of stumbled into their home. Perhaps they were just -

And then, the moment that she was a good distance in to the cavern, the Riiks began getting much more excitable. Barking, yipping and howling to each other, they fanned out, grinning as they surrounded her, grinning at her with those awful teeth as they began closing in.

"You were just waiting until you could flank me," Brighid muttered, impressed. "Clever beasts." She summoned one of her blades to her hand, and sent a wave of blue flame at the beasts, who scattered, yelping….but reformed rather quickly. Brighid kept moving forward with Morag, slashing at Riiks who became too bold and darted forward to nip at her. She hadn't gotten far when, emerging from the mouth of the tunnel she had come from, she noticed an absolutely mammoth Riik, one whose shoulder was taller than she was. It sniffed the air, blinking at the soft light of the fungi on the walls, then stared at her and grinned.

Brighid laid Lady Morag down by her side, and summoned her other twin blade to her hands. There was going to be no running from this one.

The Riiks descended on her en masse now. Six of them, and their leader, the gigantic one. With a shout, blue flame pulsed out from her, but smelling the kill now, that barely slowed them down. They pushed in on her, snapping, howling jaws, and the acrid smell of burnt fur filled her nostrils as she threw her body over Morag's, protecting her from the snapping, snarling teeth, and blue fire flowed from her fingers, and her blades danced, but it wasn't enough, it wasn't going to be enough-

And suddenly, the furry weight pressing down on her lifted, as with frightened yelps, the Riiks leapt from her. Brighid glanced down at the ground, to notice a familiar black flame dancing among the Riiks, eating away at their fur. She looked up, and there was Malos, standing over her, lifting one of the smaller Riiks off the ground by its throat, squirming and struggling. As she watched, dark flame burst from its eyes and mouth, and it went limp. Malos tossed its corpse at the remaining Riiks, who had formed into a small, pacing pack, about twenty feet away, causing them to scatter once more, and then looked down at her with an amused sneer.

Brighid yelled wordlessly and slashed at him with one of her blades.

"Ow! What the _hell, _Brighid," he snapped, hand going to his side where she had slashed him. "We're trying to help you out here."

"...Oh. Really?" Brighid said, embarrassed. "I...thought you were about to attack me. I'm...sorry. You just have one of those faces."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Malos snapped, as Rex, Nia, Dromarch, Tora and Poppi caught up to him, wielding their weapons, ready for a fight.

The Riik, however, were not stupid. Having already lost one of their own, and now outnumbered and outgunned, they quickly bounded away, back towards the cave they had come from. The large Riik, as it slunk back into the darkness, looked back over its shoulder at her, with flat, animal eyes, full of malice. And then it too slunk out of sight.

Brighid kept her blades at the ready as the party turned to her. Rex put his sword away, holding up his hands. "Look, lady. We don't want to fight you, alright?"

"I mean, I kind of want to," said Malos, still rubbing his side.

"_No,_" Rex emphasized firmly.

"Is...she alright?" Nia asked suddenly, stepping forward, looking at Morag, who lay on the ground, still mostly unconscious, breathing shallowly. She looked up into Brighid's eyes. "I...look, I can heal her, yeah?" She crossed her arms. "But only if you promise to put away those weapons and stop attacking us."

Brighid looked around at the group facing her. Truth was, if they wanted to fight her, they could probably have attacked her and taken her down already. She knew it was Lady Morag's duty to track down the Aegis, but she was out of options, and...well, Nia and Rex themselves didn't seem so bad. She sighed, and her swords disappeared from her hands in a shower of blue sparks. "Alright, you got me," she said. "Please, help lady Morag."

**9.**

Nia had recommended that they set up camp after examining Morag. The woman was unconscious, and pretty damn battered. Not beyond the point of saving, of course, but she was going to be tired after her healing. Part of healing relied on the person's own metabolism to help repair the body, and for extensive injuries like this, it would leave them well but exhausted and starving. Brighid watched anxiously as Nia and Dromarch poured their healing into Morag, watching the bruises fade from her face, and then helped them gently wrap her in a blanket once they were done and Morag was in a deep, restful sleep.

Poppi and Malos pried some of the glowing fungus off the walls of the cave – they could find no other material to burn. It took quite a bit of torching from Brighid's flame to get them burning, a few hours for the fungus to dry out and really get going, but once they did, they burned with an eerie green flame that was suitable for cooking. Tora produced a griddle and some sausages from his pack, starting them sizzling and popping over the flame.

Brighid sat around the fire with the rest of the party as they sat down to eat. Everyone was quiet, subdued, occasionally stealing glances in her direction.

"Well, I'll say it," Malos said, finally, setting down the book he had been reading. "This is awkward."

"Well if it wasn't before it definitely is now," Brighid retorted.

"It's not so bad," Rex said hopefully. "I mean, I dunno what your orders were...but I can tell you and Morag aren't such bad people. And you can tell we're not so bad too, right? We don't need to fight."

Brighid crossed her arms, and stared pointedly at Malos. "Well. I'm not so sure that all of you aren't so bad."

"Hey." Malos raised a hand, jabbing a finger at her. "I wanted to clear something up. I don't know what sort of records you have, but I didn't drag your damn child Emperor along on my mission during the Aegis war."

Brighid snorted. "Right."

"I didn't. I wasn't even in charge of that operation. Addam was, and he had doubts about allowing Hugo along too."

Rex and Nia glanced at each other nervously as the two adults argued and snapped at each other. "Uh, Malos. Who were Hugo and Addam?" Rex piped up, hoping to divert the conversation away from the argument.

"Addam...was my former driver, during the Aegis war." Some of the fire went out of Malos, as he looked introspective. "Hugo was the Emperor of Mor Ardain at the time. A kid, really. But he felt like he had the responsibility to help save the world from Mythra. He _insisted _on coming along, against the wishes of both myself and Adam." He flicked his gaze back up to Brighid, who was still staring at him skeptically. "And he acquitted himself well. He was a good soldier."

"Up until you killed him," Brighid said, coldly.

"You're a warrior yourself, Brighid. A soldier. I've got a pretty good idea of the sort of weapons Mor Ardain has at its disposal. You and your people have only become more deadly with time. Artillery. Airships. Rockets. Bombs." Malos ticked off his fingers with each named weapon. "You know that even in the most careful environments, sometimes soldiers get killed by fire from their own side. Humans are delicate, they're not meant to be around destructive power of that capacity." He glared up at her. "I...respected Hugo. I respected you, too, you know. I never meant to hurt him. But a battle between Aegis releases destructive power on a scale beyond anything even your weapons can achieve. And he knew that, understood that, going in. And so did you, you know. He walked into that final battle with your approval."

Brighid was taken aback by the outburst. She put a gloved hand to her chest, looking down. "I've...read my journal. I know I approved of him fighting. I...thought I could protect him." She sounded forlorn, sad, as she stared into the fire. "It's funny. I have no memories of him, but I still feel...like I failed him."

"There was no failure." Malos looked away, out across the cavern. "It's war. Suffering is inevitable. Someone always has to pay the price. For what it's worth...I really wish it hadn't been Hugo."

Silence settled over them again, as they all stared into the popping fire.

"A good story, Aegis," came a clipped voice suddenly. Everyone glanced up. Stumbling on tired legs, Morag had awoken, and walked unsteadily towards the fire.

Brighid leapt up to steady her. "Lady Morag. You should get some more rest."

"I'll be fine. Besides, I, ah..."

"Hungry?" Nia asked, deadpan. She held up a fork with a sausage skewered on the end of it.

"...Yes. Thank you." Morag took the fork and sniffed the sausage, suspiciously, then took a small bite. She chewed thoughtfully, then turned her attention back to Malos. "Like I said, a good story. But it doesn't explain why you're dragging children into your fight yet again." She nodded towards Rex and Nia.

Rex bristled at that. "Hey," he snapped irritably. "I've been providing for myself with salvaging for years now, you know."

"Yeah, I can take care of myself too," Nia snapped, equally as irritated. "And I was the one who just healed your sorry arse."

"Just because we look young doesn't mean we need to be coddled like some babies," Rex continued.

Nia nodded approvingly. "That's right. I've been fighting with Dromarch for a long time now. Rex here is a little wet behind the ears and could probably use some coddling, but that just means he's a rookie and an amateur, not a baby."

"That's right. Wait," Rex said.

Morag stared at the both of them with mild surprise. Then she shook her head sadly. "I suppose you're right. You aren't all that young. Still...Driver of the Aegis is an awful burden to place on...someone who…." she struggled to find the right words as Rex and Nia glared at her. "Has their….whole life ahead of them." And she glanced over the fire at Tora and Poppi, both staring at her in fascination. "And...well, I suppose I don't really know how old you are. How did you wind up with them?"

"Tora is nopon old enough to have people in debt to him!" Tora declared proudly. "Sacred nopon rite of passage."

"And Poppi was not born yesterday!" Poppi chimed in. "Poppi born maybe three days ago? Four?"

"Hmm. Accuracy of Poppi's internal clock low. Must have been damaged," Tora said.

"You know," Morag said, suddenly, laying a hand against her face, "Padraigh had told me about a nopon he was having trouble with in Torigoth. Sneaking onto base and stealing parts all the time."

"And I thought I saw a nopon the first time I met Rex and Nia," Brighid muttered, suspiciously.

Tora's eyes darted back and forth. "Tora sure he have no idea what you talking about."

Malos waved his hands idly. "Well. I didn't exactly choose to have someone this young awaken me. Or to have these people follow him." He glanced over at Rex, noticing the hurt look on his face. "But Rex has done really well."

Morag stared at the Aegis for a while, then flicked her eyes over towards Rex, giving him an appraising stare. "It seems like his power is hurting you," she said flatly, nodding her head towards Malos. "I could tell when we were fighting."

"Well….yeah." Rex shrugged, and Nia felt her annoyance with him rising and glanced away. "It hurts. But it's not like he forces it on me. He warned me ahead of time and everything, even said we should save it for emergencies and be responsible with it." He felt like he understood Morag, now. He had seen that concerned look on adult's faces a lot, especially as he got more into salvaging. "Don't worry. I'm not being taken advantage of."

Nia wasn't so certain about that. Sometimes the people who hurt you were obvious. But sometimes...the people who hurt you did so with your approval. Sometimes you told yourself you knew what you were getting into. Sometimes the people who hurt and scarred you thought they were doing it for both of your mutual benefit. Sometimes the people who hurt you were even the ones who loved you.

"So what is your mission this time then, Aegis?" Morag said, after staring at Rex for a long, quiet moment.

"We're going to Elysium," Rex interjected, before Malos could say anything.

Morag swiveled her head to stare coolly at Malos. "Elysium."

"Hey, it exists," Malos said, grinning at her. "After all, if anyone knew, wouldn't it be me?"

Morag opened her mouth to say something. But then a sharp pain shot through her lungs, and she began coughing, wheezing. Brighid leapt to her side again.

"Send her back to bed," Nia said. "She needs her rest to recover fully. Shouldn't be up all night chatting with the Aegis."

Morag tried to protest, tried to make her way back to the fire, but Brighid was kindly, but firmly, guiding her back to her bedroll. "Get your rest, Lady Morag. You don't want me to have to carry you again, do you?" asked her blade.

Morag stiffened. "Yes. Fine. We'll...talk more in the morning. And decide what to do with this lot, then."

**10.**

Rex awoke to the sound of a renewed, roaring fire, and to the feeling of heat throbbing against his face. He sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes. The fire had smoldered out overnight, before they had gone to sleep. But as he watched, Morag removed her long, trimmed overcoat and tossed it on the fire, and Brighid blasted it with her blue flame, setting it ablaze. Sighing, Morag removed her hat as well and tossed it into the blaze.

"Whoa, what are you doing that for?" Rex asked, getting up with a stretch.

"Well, we're deep in Urayan territory," Morag said, reaching up to let her hair down. "Probably not a good idea to be caught wearing an Ardainian uniform." Without her Ardainian uniform, she wore a simple loose white blouse and a pair of black pants. Rex's eyes widened a bit as her hair cascaded down her shoulders. It was longer than he had expected. She was actually quite pretty. "We've got to figure out what to do about you, though," she said to Brighid. "You need a disguise."

"I suppose there are drawbacks to being known as the Jewel of Mor Ardain." Malos came sauntering over, having already been awake. "So, the two of you are going to set off, then? Try to make your way back to the Empire?"

"No, actually," Morag said calmly. "We're going to follow you."

"What?"

"My orders are to track the Aegis and evaluate the threat he poses to the Empire." Morag shrugged as she unbuttoned the collars of her blouse and rolled up her sleeves. "I'm still evaluating the threat. Best way to do that is to follow you. For now."

Malos rolled his eyes at her. "Right. And how do we know that you won't stab us in the back and drag us to the Empire in chains the minute the opportunity presents itself?"

"Lady Morag would _never_," Brighid began, stopped when Morag held up a hand.

"It's a valid concern, Brighid." She looked at Rex now, not Malos. "I can't give you much more than my word as an agent of the Ardainian Emperor. If you decide that you don't approve of us traveling with you, we'll just...track you from a distance. But I don't mind traveling with you if you don't."

Rex glanced at Malos. "It's your call, kid," the blade said, shrugging.

"I don't mind," Rex said, with little pause or hesitation. "I think I'm a pretty good judge of people, and you seem like decent folk."

Morag gave a small smile. The boy's innocence was sort of charming. "Right. Glad to be along."

Nia appeared as everyone was packing up from camp. She had risen early and gone for a bit of a ride on Dromarch, to scout out ahead. She gave Morag a once-over and declared her healed. "I'm damn good," she boasted, her ears twitching happily.

"And so humble!" Rex replied.

"Watch it." Nia pointed out across the cavern. "I have no idea where we are, but Dromarch said he could smell people over in that direction."

"An old scent. Days or more. But I think it's our best bet if we're trying to find civilization," the big cat purred.

"Before we go anywhere, we need to come up with a disguise for Brighid here." Morag stood back with her hands clasped behind her back, examining her blade. "I never really thought about it before, but you really do stand out. All that blue, and do any other blades even use blue flame?"

"You could always go on ahead without me. It's not like I packed a change of outfits, unfortunately." Brighid pondered. "I could….put my hair up." She reached up and bunched her hair into a bun.

"Whoa! Where did Brighid go?!" Malos cried sarcastically, while Nia snickered. Brighid glared at him and dropped her hair. "Oh! Oh there she is! You really transformed there!"

"Tora may have solution!" The nopon began rummaging through his bag. "Tora always pack extra outfits for Poppi. Fashion very important part of being a blade."

"Oh please," snapped Nia.

"I agree," said Brighid. She glanced at the small robot girl, and then down at herself. "But...uh, I don't think any outfit for Poppi would fit me very well."

"Is true, Brighid is much curvier than Poppi," Poppi said sadly. "On the other hand, Poppi have strength of twenty men and is incapable of pain, so Poppi doesn't mind."

"Yes yes, is true. But Tora have...other schematics...and future….upgrade plans, for Poppi," he said, waving his wings in an hourglass shape. "First part of...upgrade plans...is selecting right outfit...ah, here!" he cried, pulling an outfit from the bag and holding it up.

"_No_," Brighid said, aghast. "Lady Morag..."

Morag looked away, grimly. "I'm...sorry, Brighid. We have no choice. We need to get you in a disguise."

"But...Lady Morag!"

"I'm so sorry."

A short time later, Brighid appeared dressed in Tora's costume: An extremely frilly, revealing maid's outfit, cut to reveal a substantial amount of cleavage, with a dangerously short skirt. Her vibrant blue hair was hidden, mostly, beneath a bonnet.

"Hey, looks pretty cute," Malos said approvingly.

"I will _end you,_" snapped Brighid.

"Masterpon wants Poppi to dress like this in the future?" Poppi said, dubiously.

"Only after upgrades! This just good chance to get someone to model outfit." Tora paced around Brighid, considering. "Hmm. Skirt perhaps, too long. Maybe reduce length by 2.75 inches. Also would perhaps be better with-"

"Lady Morag," Brighid said through gritted teeth. "Please tell this nopon to stop staring at me like a piece of meat before I set everything in this cave on fire."

Rex, who was studiously avoiding looking too closely at Brighid, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um. Okay, Tora. That's enough. Let's…."

Nia peered at him closely. "Oh...oh look at you _blushing_," she snorted, laughing. "It's just a bit of skin! Oh, this is adorable."

"I'm not blushing," Rex snapped at her. "It's just...warm in here. Is all." He through up his hands in frustration. "Whatever! Let's just get going."

So the party set out, traveling deeper into the depths of Uraya.


	7. Chapter 7

**11.**

"So...hungry," Nia groaned, staggering forward, forcing herself to put one foot in front of another.

It had been nearly a week since they had set out with Morag and Brighid, following the scent of humans Dromarch picked up. Unfortunately, Uraya's gullet was massive, labyrinthine, a twisting expanse of endless caves lined with rainbow, glowing fungus, and glowing green lakes of acid. There was no denying it was eerily beautiful, if alien, and full of dangerous wildlife. They had clashed with aggressive Riiks, and large, mobile, toxic flowers. Again, unfortunately, none of the wildlife was edible – all of it was toxic, a fact Morag had shared with them when they had begun running low on rations and had considered eating some of the meat from a Riik who had attacked them. The Ardainian officer corps had been well-educated on the dangers of Urayan wildlife in preparation for the war.

So they had trudged on, their supplies, already diminished from having lost so much in the crash, dwindling even further day by day. They had rationed themselves, but had been perhaps too optimistic about finding civilization, and a chance to re-stock, sooner. This morning, they had run out of food more or less completely, chewing down on the last sad remains of their food supply.

"Don't worry. Keep your spirits up," Rex said, walking beside her, acting as if he wasn't feeling the hunger at all. Nia glared at him. She knew he had to be feeling it. She had watched him skip his rations this morning, pretending he wasn't hungry, so that everyone else would have more to eat. And he had done the same damn thing the morning before, too. Rex pointed to the path they were traveling on. "You see this? Well-traveled path, yeah? Lots of people walk this pretty often. We can't be that far from civilization." He smiled against the shadows beneath his eyes, then glanced around furtively, removing a health bar from his pack. "I found this after this morning. Here, take it," he whispered to her furtively, attempting to push it into her hands.

"You are gonna take that bar right now, and unwrap it, and eat it yourself," she hissed right back at him, glancing around to see if anyone else was watching. "What do you think you're doing, starving yourself?"

"Starving myself? Hah, what are you – Ow!" Rex winced as she punched his shoulder.

"Don't you lie to me, Rex. I've been watching you, I know you haven't eaten for two days."

Rex looked at her with tired eyes, then glanced away and gave a small sad smile. "I'm...the leader, I suppose. I got you guys into this mess. The least I could do is push myself harder and suffer a little more so you guys don't have to deal with as much." He sighed, putting the health bar into a pocket. "If you don't want it, I'll save it for someone else-"

"Oh no you don't," she snapped, reaching into his pocket. "You're gonna unwrap that and eat it right now, or I'll bash you, I swear."

"Oi! Get your hands out of there. Hey, put that-don't unwrap it!"

"You're gonna eat this. I heal you so much, do you have any idea how frustrating it is when you don't take care of yourself? Eat it-"

"I'm the leader, I should-"

"Shut it. And then open it, and eat-"

"I said no-"

"_You are such a baby. _I'll cram it in there myself if I have to. Don't make me pinch your nose."

"Let go of my arm! Oh, Titan's foot, you aren't actually going to – mmf!"

"You happy? You happy it came to this? Oh by the Architect, you better chew."

Morag and Brighid, walking behind the two, observed quietly as they squabbled and fought with each other. Morag raised a quiet eyebrow when Nia crammed the bar into Rex's mouth. She glanced over as Malos strolled next to her, grinning. The Aegis was definitely an odd one. Everything Morag had heard about him had led her to expect something more...grandiose. Instead, he seemed...well, to be honest, Morag knew Brighid didn't appreciate his crude sense of humor, but Morag had found herself warming up to him. He could be rude, but he had a real sense of discipline, a sarcastic sort of...gallows humor, almost, a real dedication to getting things done...in honesty, he reminded Morag a lot of the soldiers she had had under her command. Malos nodded towards Rex and Nia, still squabbling up ahead. "So. What do you guys think?"

"She...certainly seems to care for him. In an odd way," Morag replied.

Brighid, perhaps still a little miserable in her disguise, was more blunt than she usually was. "Oh, she's falling for him bad, I think."

Malos raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Hah! Brighid gets it. You aren't all bad."

Morag remained silent, and considered this. She may have warmed up to the Aegis, but she was still concerned about the effects his power might have on the boy. He might insist that he could handle it, but, well...Rex was still young, despite his protestations, and enthusiastic, and...all too willing to throw himself into danger. Again, like a lot of young soldiers she knew. Talking to Nia about it might be a good course of action at some point. To get a...better perspective on the dangers Malos might pose to Rex.

The caverns they were traveling through began undergoing an encouraging change in the next couple of hours of marching. They slowly transitioned from dank, alien caverns full of mushrooms and fungi and pools of acid, to something that seemed much more habitable to life – stony caverns coated with waving fields of blue-green grass, thick ivy covering the walls, and rivers of crystal-clear, fresh water.

"Oh, it's pretty," Rex said, as they entered a large cavern with multiple stone bridges above them. High above, in the ceiling, actual sunlight filtered down, seemingly penetrating the hide of the Urayan Titan, far above them. "See this? If anyone lives nearby, I bet it's around here." 

"The scent of humans _is_ getting stronger," Dromarch observed casually. "Very strong, in fact."

"We can fill up our canteens at that river, I bet," Rex called excitedly, pointing to a clear, healthy-looking waterfall pouring from one of the walls. "Maybe even catch some fish." He ran ahead.

And as he passed beneath one of the stone bridges overhead, six figures dropped to the ground with a thud. A group of three drivers, with their blades. One was a dark-haired Ardainian, carring a lage axe, another an Urayan of average build wielding a spear, bearded and wearing goggles, both of them accompanied by common blades. The third man, however, was an absolutely massive Urayan, towering over the other two by at least a foot, and nearly as wide as he was tall, thick with muscle, layered with scars, with wild, flowing, long gray hair, and dark, bronzed skin. He wore what looked like custom military equipment, a vest wound round with pouches and bandoliers, camoflaged pants and massive steel-toed boots. His blade was an odd, bird-like creature, with vibrant red and orange plumage, and he carried odd, scythe-like weapons in each hand. He grinned viciously at the group as he landed, his face criss-crossed with scars that made him that much more intimidating.

"Rex!" Morag cried out, as the drivers cut off his path back. Rex spun around, his eyes widening.

The massive Urayan stepped forward, shaking his head, and spoke in a loud, raspy growl. "Letting yourself get cut off from your blade. I expected more from the Driver of the Aegis."

"Wait. You know about that?" Malos crossed his arms. "Why the hell is it that pretty much everyone we meet except the person who awoke me actually knows what the Aegis is?"

"And the Aegis himself. You'll be a pretty prize, alright." The massive Urayan looked over his shoulder at Rex, who had drawn his junk sword. "Hah! Look, this shrimp thinks he's gonna fight us. Don't be an idiot, kid. Just hand over the Aegis."

"You're damn right I'm going to fight you if you think you're going to take him," Rex snarled.

Malos drew his sword as well, along with the rest of the group. "You know that's not how it works right? I'm right here. I don't just...go with whoever he hands me over to. That's not how any of this works."

The massive Urayan ignored him. "Yew, Zuo!" He called out to his two assistants. "You guys keep the rest busy. I wanna squash this kid and the Aegis myself." And with that, he launched himself at Rex with a roar.

The large man was surprisingly swift for someone his size. He slammed into Rex like a freight train, sending him flying. Malos darted forward, past the other two drivers, who let him pass without trouble, as they moved in to engage Tora, Nia, and Morag.

Morag drew her twin blades, and tried to maneuver past them, but the two were very competent fighters, quickly moving to block her path. Her blade danced out, lightning-quick, as she engaged them, but she very quickly noticed that the two drivers were fighting very defensively, not so much concerned with attacking her as they were with making sure she didn't make her way past them to help Rex. Unfortunately, they both used weapons with great reach, the haft of the spear and the axe working well to block her whenever she tried to dart to the side. Nia and Tora, inexperienced as they were, were being easily herded by them, giving them plenty of time to concentrate on Morag and Brighid.

Malos swung his sword at the giant Urayan's head, only to have it caught in one of the man's scythes. The scythes were hooked, barbed, designed well for catching and parrying straight blades. And he was quick with them, incredibly quick, in fact. Malos quickly realized they were fighting one of the best drivers he had ever been up against as he wrenched his blade out of the scythe's hooks and began dueling the man, only just quick enough to parry his blows. The ether bond between the man and his birdlike blade was incredibly strong, and the blade was channeling ether into him at an incredible rate, augmenting his speed and senses to an absurd degree. Behind him, he saw Rex struggle to his feet, wincing. "Rex! The blade!" he cried out.

Rex nodded, understanding, and launched himself at the bird with a shout, interrupting its concentration on the bond. The man slowed noticeably as it turned to deal with Rex, buffeting him with powerful blasts of wind from its wings. He was still as quick and clever as any driver Malos had ever dueled, though. He grimaced as he was slowly driven back up against a cliff face. If he wasn't damaged as he was…

He gathered dark flame into the palm of his off-hand, and then, when he saw an opening, delivered a powerful punch to the man's gut, unleashing an explosion of dark fire, and sending him sliding a few feet backwards with a wince. "Not bad," Malos panted, smiling at him. "But-" he was cut short as the man aimed his wrist at him with a vicious grin. Malos noticed a familiar device on it – the same sort of winch and cable Rex wore as part of his salvaging equipment. With a whirring hiss, and a smart flick of his wrist, the man sent the cable winding around Malos' legs, then pulled them out from underneath him, sending the Aegis tumbling to the ground. His sword went flying from his hands from the jolt.

Rex yelled, then dashed forward to pluck up Malos' sword, ducking beneath the clutching claws of the man's bird blade. He pointed the dark blade at the man. "I'm warning you," he snarled.

The giant Urayan wiped sweat from his brow, then grinned at him. "What you gonna do, ya mush? You gonna show me the true power of the Aegis? You better be quick about it!" And with that, he raised one of his scythes above his head, preparing to bring it down upon Malos.

With a shout, Rex raised the sword, and felt the dark flame channel into him once again. It still tore him apart, still felt as if it was hollowing him out. But what Malos had said was true. He was building up a tolerance to it. If that meant he was actually being less damaged, or if he had simply built up a tolerance to the pain, Rex was unsure. But without the pain completely overwhelming him, he could...concentrate more on what he was doing. He could...sense the dark flame, flowing through him and into the blade. He saw...sensed...felt...how it would respond to his thoughts, how it could be shaped, how it would obey him.

This time, when he swung the sword, the dark flame did not rocket out in a cone. Instead, it erupted up from the ground in giant pillars, tearing holes of nothingness into the earth, ripping through it in a series of explosions towards the large man, whose eyes widened as he was sent flying by one of them.

Rex advanced on the man as his bird-blade helped him to his feet, holding his sword out at the ready. He could feel the pain building up in him, ramping up, threatening to crowd out his thoughts, but he pushed it down for now. "Y-you're done," Rex said, sweat pouring from him, pointing his sword at the man. With another swing, he sent out a small wave of the dark flame, carving a large, twisted scar in a massive boulder just next to the man.

The massive Urayan looked at it in surprise, then gave Rex an appraising look, and smirked. "Nah. I got plenty of fight left in me. You, though..."

Rex's breath was coming to him in ragged gasps, now. His vision was blurring before him. Whatever tolerance he had to the pain before seemed to be completely overwhelmed now. "I'm...just starting…to fight," he lied, putting all his strength into one last swing. He couldn't concentrate on the shape of the flame now, couldn't control it at all, and the snakes of dark flame spun around him wildly, carving furrows into the stone, as he dropped Malos' sword and collapsed, his head pounding, his body weak, pain throbbing through his entire being.

The man stepped forward, looking at him with an odd expression. Then, to Rex's surprise, he sheathed his scythes, and knelt down beside him. "Yew! Zuo! That's enough!" he called out.

Tora, Nia, and Morag looked around, questioningly, as the drivers they had been fighting suddenly put their weapons up. Morag watched with interest as Nia spotted Rex, seemingly being comforted by the larger man now, and dashed towards him, the expression on her face one of fury and pain.

"Away from him," she snapped at the massive Urayan, kneeling down beside Rex. At least he didn't seem to be as in bad a shape as he had been after escaping from the Ardainian base. But she hated how she was becoming accustomed to seeing him like this, and that made the rage in her arise anew, and she liked that, she liked that rage. She never wanted to get used to this, to come to see Malos' power as something...normal. She placed her hands on Rex's face, and reached out through the ether. He...felt odd. It was true, he didn't feel as hollowed out as he had on previous occasions. But...there was still the sense that he was being broken, in some fundamental way, in some way she couldn't quite completely heal, some way that would get worse each time….she poured healing into him, doing the best she could to repair.

As Nia tended to Rex, the massive Urayan stood up and grinned at Malos as the rest of the party approached, cautiously. "That was one hell of a fight," he said, roaring with laughter. "Name's Vandham. Sorry, I just had to take a crack at the Aegis myself. Been itching to do it ever since I heard you woke up."

Morag's eyes widened. Vandham? THE Vandham? He was reputed as Uraya's strongest driver. But not only that, the stories about his exploits were legendary. He was not only Uraya's strongest driver, but if half the things she heard about him were true, he was the sort of driver that only came about once every few generations. If Mor Ardain ever bought the war to Uraya, she had assumed she would be facing him on the battlefield.

"You already heard about that? News travels fast," Malos said, in an almost chummy manner that got right on Nia's nerves. Why the hell was he being so friendly? And Vandham, this dumb fat goat, treating battle like it was playtime, pushing Rex to...she shook her head, tamping down her anger, concentrating again on healing him.

"Well, I got better intel than most, probably," Vandham grinned.

"Hey, boss." The Urayan assistant, the one named Zuo, pointed suddenly toward Morag. "This one here, and her blade. They really know how to fight."

"Yeah. I noticed." Vandham stepped towards them, towering over them, rubbing his chin between two gigantic fingers. Suddenly he lashed out, surprisingly fast, snatching the bonnet from Brighid's head, sending her blue-flame hair cascading down her back. "As I thought. The jewel of Mor Ardain."

"Oh! Does this mean this disguise didn't work? Does that mean I can change?" Brighid said, delighted. In a flash of blue flame, the skimpy maid's outfit was incinerated, and she was back in her blue dress and flame-styled gloves and boots.

Tora looked sadly at the floating ashes of the dress as they drifted to the ground. "Tora, ah, send you a bill for that," he said.

Zuo's face was suddenly etched with fury, and he raised his spear again. "Morag and Brighid? Here in Uraya? Boss, we gotta report this, you can't say no now-" 

"Put that damn weapon down, Zuo," Vandham roared. "You know our policy is to stay neutral in this war."

Zuo didn't put the weapon down. Morag slowly began reaching for her blades again. The sheer hatred written on the man's face was frightening.

"Put it _down_," Vandham intoned, his voice low and threatening. "We'll talk about it later, back at camp."

Zuo, after a long, tense moment, finally shook his head and put his weapon back down.

Vandham stared at him with an unreadable expression for a long moment. "I do have to ask," he said, without taking his eyes off Zuo, "What's the Inquisitor doing in Uraya?"

"Keeping an eye on the Aegis," Morag answered, calmly. She was in a delicate situation. It wouldn't do to raise the tension.

Vandham moved his gaze to her, finally. He didn't say anything, merely meeting her gaze. The man had a stare as unflinching and penetrating as her own. Finally, he gave a small nod. "Right," he said, simply.

Nia, meanwhile, had managed to heal Rex to the point where he was no longer overwhelmed by the pain, and could manage to sit up. He really did have incredible drive. Healing was part her own contribution, part the metabolism of the target, and part sheer willpower of the target. Rex was starving, but...the flame that burned inside him burned so bright that he could recover anyway. Nia gave him a flat, angry stare, then looked away as he grabbed her arm. "Thank you, Nia. I don't know what I'd do without you." He rubbed the back of his head as she continued to deliberately look away from him, her face inscrutable.

"Hey, kid." Vandham prodded him with a boot, as Rex slowly, wincing, got up. "You know what happened, there?"

"I got attacked by some giant Urayan and his pet parrot?"

Vandham threw his head back and roared with laughter. "That's right! And we kicked your ass, too. I've heard tale of the Aegis power before. The Driver of the Aegis gets granted incredible power, but it can consume them." Vandham jabbed him with one giant finger. "You gotta learn to fight smarter, kid. So you don't have to rely on that power, unless you really, really need it. Otherwise your enemies will just do what I did. Drive you to a desperate situation, and then let you burn yourself out." Vandham tapped a finger to the side of his head. "Raw power only gets you so far, yeah? You gotta fight smarter." He cast his eye over the group and grinned. "Right. Well, you all look tired, hungry and dirty. Why don't you come with me? I run a little operation not that far from here. You can rest up and eat up, on the house. Consider it payment for letting me take a whack at the legendary Aegis."

**12.**

Vandham, Yew and Zuo led them on a small march. Morag hung back a bit, observing. Malos and Rex had seemed to take an immediate shine to the man, laughing and joking around with him. Even Tora and Poppi were crowded around him, jumping enthusiastically. Vandham certainly had charisma, at least. Not many men could get the people he had just been fighting to warm up to him. Not everyone was so charmed by him. Nia was alternately glaring daggers at him and looking away, sulking, forlorn, riding on Dromarch's back. And Zuo, his Urayan assistant, was alternately looking back at Morag with fury etched in his face, and looking up at Vandham with a stony expression. And Yew…

"You don't have to worry," Yew said by her side. Vandham's Ardainian bodyguard had fallen behind the others, to keep up with Morag. "Vandham's not the sort to go running to the Urayan government to turn someone in."

Morag eyed him up and down cautiously. "And you're certain about this? I have to say, in his position, reporting me is exactly what I'd do. I wouldn't even begrudge him for it."

Yew glanced over at his blade, then back at her. "I mean, he's not going to sit by and do nothing if he thinks you actually are here to plan the invasion. But if he thinks you really are just keeping an eye on the Aegis for Mor Ardain, and that you don't plan on turning him into some weapon for the Empire..."

Morag shook her head sadly. "And why wouldn't he think exactly that?"

Yew gave her a steady look. "Because he knows Mor Ardain's history. Because he doesn't think you actually want to do it. Because he thinks you can't do it, even if you wanted."

"He may not be wrong about that," Morag said softly. She looked back at Yew. The man was prime military age. Strong, and competent, at that. Tall, lean, with a shock of black hair, the picture of an ideal Ardainian soldier. If he was back in Mor Ardain, he would no doubt be in the military. "So how did an Ardainian come to be part of an Urayan mercenary group? Neutral or not?"

"Well, it's not really an Urayan group, as such. Vandham takes in all kinds." Yew's face grew...pained, sorrowful. "I...I love the Empire. As much as any Ardainian. But..." he shook his head. "I don't think you'd understand, being the right hand of the Emperor. Mor Ardain is...walking a dark path. Maybe we have been for a long time, now. I can still see so much to love in it. It has so much good in it. But...traveling the world, I came to realize I can't blame them for hating us so much, when we hide all that good behind a gas mask. That's all they know of us. As conquerors. I...realized I couldn't be part of that anymore. I couldn't don the mask and point a gun at the world. So….I left."

Morag was taken aback by the man's words. If she was being honest with herself, she saw much to sympathize with in them. She felt the same way, to a degree. But she still had hope, hope that one day, when Mor Ardain was secure, it could show the world all the beauty it had to offer. That one day, it might be known for more than conquest. That people might see its military as the strong helping hand. That they might see the prosperity its technology offered. The resilience and good cheer of its people. There were few things that moved Morag, but love of her country could still send chills down her spine. Still...she wondered how many young men felt the way Yew did. "I...understand more than you might think. But there's still hope. It doesn't have to be like this."

Yew looked at her in surprise, then looked away wistfully. "I hope you're right," he murmured.

It wasn't long, perhaps an hour or two, before they came across the camp. They crossed into a tunnel, and into a large cavern, overlooking a winding path down to a series of large tents and stacks of crates and supplies, with some small, permanent buildings scattered among them, surrounded by a rough hewn wooden fence. Armed men milled around the tents, some of them looking up and waving as soon as Vandham came into view.

"Alright, Vandham," Zuo snapped suddenly, startling him out of his conversation with Rex. "We're back at camp." He jabbed a finger at Morag. "What are you planning on doing with her?"

Vandham glanced back at Morag, then down at Zuo. "Giving her a place to sleep. Maybe hitting on her if I get drunk enough." He winked in Morag's direction, and she did her best to suppress an amused smile.

"This ain't funny, boss. This is the right hand of the Ardainian Emperor, in Urayan territory, during a time of war. Tell me why aiding her isn't an act of treason."

Silence fell across the group at the mention of the word 'treason'. Vandham looked down at his massive hands, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. "Treason's a funny thing, Zuo. Everyone has their own definition of it. You know there's some people who'd call you a traitor just for fighting side by side with Yew."

"That's different."

"Sure is. My point is, you gotta make your own calls. I come across Morag here, fighting to protect a kid, lost and hungry, alone in enemy territory. I think to myself, well, that sure doesn't seem like the vanguard to an invasion. Why's she here alone? Definitely can't be to spy – she'd be a dumb choice of spy, too many know her. She tells me her mission is to watch the Aegis, and you know what, I believe her. Keeping an eye on the Aegis is definitely something Mor Ardain would put a high priority on, maybe even above the war. And you know what else, it's a good thing – _someone _ought to be keeping an eye on him. No offense," he said, glancing at Malos.

"So that's it?" Zuo was dangerously still, stone-faced, his voice flat. "So we just treat her like anyone else?"

"That's right. How about this, Zuo. I think she's doing anything that might help the Ardainians in the war effort against Uraya, I'll kill her myself. That sound good?"

"Are you threatening Lady Morag?" Brighid said, quietly, stepping forward. Morag held her back and shook her head.

"Come on. There _is _a war on, after all. I can't exactly just let you run around doing whatever you damn well please. I'm a mercenary, but Uraya is my country." Vandham shrugged.

"It's fine," Morag replied. She looked over to Zuo, seeing the muted fury in the man's gaze. She understood. "For what it's worth, Zuo...I didn't want this war, either. And neither did the Emperor."

Zuo stared back at her with a flat gaze. "Well, that hardly matters anymore, does it," he replied, his voice low. "The war happened anyway." He looked at Vandham, shaking his head, and walked off toward the camp alone.

Vandham watched him go. "Lost his sister. She served on an Urayan destroyer. Shot down few months back." The big man sighed, crossing his arms.

Morag was silent. She thought back to what Yew had said. It really was all the rest of the world got to see of Mor Ardain most of the time, wasn't it? Conquest.

"Well anyway, enough of that," Vandham growled. He threw his arms wide. "Welcome to Garfont village! Let's get you something to eat."

He led them down into the village, pointing out shops and houses along the way, receiving plenty of hearty greetings and waves on the way in. He was well liked by the people of the village, who seemed completely comfortable going out of their way to come up to him and clap him on the back, greet him, and engage him in small talk, despite how intimidating he looked.

On the way past one tent, Nia heard rowdy cheers. She pulled a flap aside to peak inside, and widened her eyes. Inside the tent was a circle of relaxing mercenaries at various small tables, drinking, while a woman with a mysterious smile on her face and wearing very little did a hip-swaying, seductive dance on a small stage.

"How crude," Brighid sniffed, appearing over Nia's shoulder with Morag.

"Oh, it's not that bad. It's just a little skin. Uh...okay, a lot of skin," Nia said, blushing, as another of the woman's skimpy garments went sailing overhead, discarded. "Wow, she's pretty."

Vandham, disengaging from a conversation with another resident, noticed the three of them peaking into the tent. "Nothing wrong with a little entertainment. They get paid well. And we got a tent with something for the ladies too, if you'd like." Vandham pointed out another tent and grinned.

Brighid wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. Absolutely not. This is terribly degrading."

"Oh, I dunno," Nia said, still entranced by the dance. "I think it's kind of brave."

"_Alright,_ that's enough, my lady," Dromarch rumbled at her side, nudging her away from the tent. "Come on now."

"But-hey! I wanna-" Nia reluctantly let go of the tent flap as she was pushed along with the crowd.

Vandham led them to a small inn, of only a few rooms, where the proprietor gladly offered to let them stay for free once Vandham asked him if they could stay. The big Urayan insisted on paying for them.

Rex was glad to have a place to stay. It had been weeks of travel – he realized he hadn't had a chance for a proper bath since Argentum. The party split into their rooms to bathe, and as they filtered out into the small common room of the inn, little more than a porch with some tent cloth held over it with poles, they noticed a feast had been laid out for them. When Rex came out, feeling refreshed, his hair still damp, he noticed Tora and Poppi already there. Tora was cramming food into his mouth while simultaneously showing Vandham a particular gadget of his, a small attachment that exploded outward into a claw. Vandham seemed impressed by the nopon's technical skills.

The party settled down into a feast, and mercenaries filtered in and out of the inn as Vandham regaled them with talk of missions, pointing out various residents of the town as they walked in and out. He had an insult and a kind word for everyone. While he may be crude, it was hard not to get drawn in to his boisterous attitude and rough, loud laugh. Beer and wine flowed freely, and he didn't bother asking them any hard questions. He seemed to sense that they could use a night just to rest and relax and get their spirits up.

As the night wore on, the party atmosphere began to die down. Rex glanced around. Tora was showing off Poppi's capabilities to a particularly busty barmaid. Morag and Malos were lounging in a corner, playing some board game against each other, Brighid watching with a smirk on her face. From the expression on Malos' face, it seemed like Morag was winning. But Nia…

Vandham gave him a nudge with one massive hand, finishing off yet another beer. The man could outdrink any salvager Rex had ever met, he could give him that. "You looking for your girl, mate?"

"She's not my girl," Rex said, still glancing around.

Vandham ignored this. "I saw her sneak out a couple hours ago. Think she's out over there." He pointed with one giant finger out into the village, up at a large tree, ripe with pink blossoms, growing on some platforms above the village. He gave Rex a rueful grin. "Think she's mad at you. Think she's mad at me, too. She's been pulling faces at us both all night."

"Really? Ah, man..." Rex scratched the back of his head. He thought he had detected a hint of that before, after she had healed him. "Maybe I should go talk to her."

"Good luck, kid!" Vandham called after him as he got up, raising his beer glass to him. "Tell her not to kill me for taking a wack at you, yeah?"

**13.**

Rex exited the inn into the streets, such as they were, of Garfont. Of course, they weren't really streets at all, the village was too small for that, they were merely dirt paths beaten into the grass by the repeated passage of people between the buildings. The village was dark, peaceful...not quite tranquil, as the boisterous shouts of mercenaries could be heard coming from several tents. Rex kind of wondered how the few residents of the village felt about mercenaries living there, having rowdy parties until the late hours of the night. Probably they didn't care that much, considering how much money they likely bought in. And who knew, maybe the whole village was nothing but hangers-on of Vandham's merc group to begin with.

The village was lit by warm, flickering torchlight. Rex kept his eyes on the tree and walked towards it. It was a good distance above the village...and, Rex found out, not on a hill. He ran into terraces, natural ones carved into the rock, a good deal taller than he was. He traced his arm along them, looking for a ladder, or some steps, any way to get up them. There had to be _some _way to get up there. When he jumped, he could see rice growing in still waters at the top of the terrace.

"Good evening, Rex."

Rex jumped, spinning around. Dromarch sat perched upon some crates, peering down at him intently, his tail flicking back and forth idly.

"Oh...hey, Dromarch." Rex exhaled, the adrenaline draining out of him. "Is Nia up there…?"

Dromarch didn't answer. The big cat continued to stare down at him with large, mysterious dark eyes. Suddenly, he leapt down from the crates with fluid grace, landing at Rex's feet. He circled around Rex curiously, tail flicking the whole time.

Rex sighed. "She's mad at me, isn't she?"

"Perhaps," the big cat said idly. "My lady...she has...her passions, you could say. You do a good job at fanning those flames."

Rex laughed. "Fancy way to say I get on her nerves."

Dromarch stopped his pacing, giving Rex a skeptical look. "Sure. Let's go with that." He continued pacing again, circling around Rex in what was beginning to feel like an almost predatory manner. Finally, he stopped, looking up at Rex with those mysterious eyes. "Might I offer some advice? Do not hurt my lady."

Rex was taken aback by this. "I would never, Dromarch. I swear!" Even the idea of hurting Nia made him feel sick. She had done so much for him that he could never repay. Why did Dromarch think he was going to hurt her? He wasn't the kind of man who hit women.

"Perhaps not intentionally," Dromarch said quietly, tail still flicking. He sighed, then nodded his head towards the darkness. "The ladder you're looking for is over that way."

Nia sat beneath the tree, her back against it, legs drawn up against her chest. It was lit faintly by the walls of the Titan, which had some bioluminescent fungus coating it still. Not as big as it had been in the caverns on their journey here, but enough to light the tree. It was a beautiful tree, too, and had all sorts of flowers growing at the base of it.

She had found herself thinking of her...father. He had loved her so much, and she had loved him back. And she liked to think he had been honest with his love. But nobody, nobody had hurt her like he did. After her sister's death...all the love was twisted up with the pain he caused her. Why did her mind drift to him, now?

She tossed a pebble into the small stream that ran in front of her. Her ears perked up at the sound of ruffling grass behind her. She glanced around, to see Rex, pausing in the waist-high grass. "Oh. It's you." She looked away.

Rex came and sat next to her. She continued to look away from him. "Vandham says he thinks you're mad at me. And him."

"He sure says some stupid stuff."

"Dromarch says so, too."

Nia sighed and tossed another pebble into the stream, saying nothing.

"Hey...look, I know it...must be annoying having to heal me all the time. You don't have to do it. Seriously, I mean it. I-"

"Rex, I don't mind healing you. I like healing you. And everyone," she added quickly. "I like...being able to fix things."

"Then what is it?" Rex didn't sound annoyed, didn't sound angry. He just sounded curious and concerned.

"I...don't like seeing you hurt yourself," Nia replied quietly. "I don't like seeing you be so….willing to use the Aegis power….you...Rex, I can sense how hurt you are when you do that." She shook her head. "Maybe the others...they see you get up, and think you're okay, but I know exactly how bad it hurts you."

Rex looked away. "Oh, it's not so bad," he said lightly.

"And you keep _doing _that," Nia snapped, drawing her legs closer to her chest. "I know you're lying to yourself." She huffed, and then looked away. "Look, whatever. I don't give a damn."

"I have to, though," Rex said quietly. Nia glanced over at him. "Look, fine, I'll admit it. It hurts. It hurts like nothing I've ever felt before in my life, when I use it a lot. It hurts so much it scares me. But I have to use it. I...can't not use it, when I think my friend's lives are at stake."

Nia looked away again, but found herself smiling a little bit. Rex...really was a sweet kid, all things considered. "Could y'do something, then?" she asked, after a moment of silence. "Could you...practice, with that sword of yours, so you're not such a total dunce using it? Actually get good at using it, so you don't have to rely on Mr. Spooky and his dark magic?"

"Mr. Spooky? That your nickname for Malos?" Rex laughed.

"I'm workshopping it until I can come up with something meaner."

Rex sighed , crossing his arms behind his head. "Yeah," he said after a while. "Yeah, I mean, I need to get better with my sword anyway, right? The fight with Vandham definitely showed me that. I can't rely on Malos' power for everything. I'll practice with my sword so I don't have to use it as often. And I'll practice on using the power without pushing myself to the edge like that, again."

"You mean it, now? You aren't gonna get lazy and just forget to bother?"

"Yeah, yeah, I promise. After all, make a girl cry, that's not gonna fly. Make a girl smile? You pass the trial. Rule three of the salvager's code!"

Nia furrowed her brow in annoyance. "I was not crying. And I'm not smiling. And that is the cheesiest line I ever heard."

Rex grinned at her. "Just you wait. Other parts of the Salvager's code are even cheesier."

"I find that hard to believe."

A moment of silence passed between them, as they sat back and enjoyed the warmth and peace of the spot, the natural beauty surrounding them. The tree above them swayed gently in some errant breeze, perhaps from the Titan's depths, perhaps somehow traveling down to them from some distant entrance to the outside.

"You know," Nia said quietly, after some time, "My da...he always tried to train me to be a lady. He was a lord, and always wanted me to grow up trained proper." She laughed, ruefully. "It was so stuffy."

"You, a lady? No way."

"Most of it was boring stuff. But one thing I always did like was the flowers. Old Gormotti nobility, they have this whole thing about giving someone flowers. Different colors, different kinds meant different things when you gave them to someone." Suddenly she reached forward, plucking a flower from the grass before them, an orange lily. She leaned over and placed it on Rex's chest, deftly tucking it into the straps of his salvager's vest. She looked up at him expectantly, a small smile on her lips, eyes gleaming mysteriously in the gentle light.

Rex looked down at his chest, then back at her. "So...what's an orange flower mean?"

Nia smiled mischievously and leaned forward again, until she was close to his ear. "It means you're a great big idiot," she whispered sweetly.

Rex rolled his eyes. "Okay. What's it _really_ mean?"

Nia fished out an old tattered book from one of her pockets and handed it to Rex. Its worn, tattered cover had a gold inlay that read "A Gormotti lady's guide to Botany." She scooched closer to him, and Rex was suddenly embarrassed as she laid her chin on his shoulder as she opened the book to the correct page for him. His eyes scanned down the page to where she was pointing. "I can't believe it actually means that," he muttered.

Nia laughed, getting to her feet and stretching out until she shook. "Ohhhh, I am looking forward to having a comfy bed to sleep in."

Rex was still leafing through the flower book. "This...half of these flowers are insults. It's bizarre."

"That's part of why I liked it so much."

They walked back to the inn together. As they clambered down the ladder, Dromarch fell in pace beside them, silently, Nia's hands reaching out to instinctively stroke his fur. Dromarch looked up at his driver as she and Rex talked on their way back. She was smiling, that was good. And there was a mischievous twinkling fire in her eyes that Dromarch had never really seen there before.


	8. Chapter 8

**14.**

Morag awoke early, as she always did, accustomed as she was to the life of a soldier. She stretched out, listening to her joints pop and crack. She was still in the prime of her life, but, sad to say, she was beginning to feel the effects of age. Humans had so little time given to them. From long practice in battle, she already knew that she was slower than she had been a few years ago, and she'd awake with pains and aches that she never experienced before. Youth, she thought ruefully, was wasted on the young. All too soon, things that they had taken for granted, the indestructibility of their bodies, the abuse they could heap upon themselves and recover from quickly, would slip through their fingers. Still, comparably, she felt fantastic. It was hard to believe that little more than a week ago, she had been battered to within an inch of her life. Nia's skills as a healer really were exceptional. She ought to thank the girl. Perhaps Nia would like a gift of some sort.

She glanced over at the bed next to her, where Brighid still lounged, sleeping. Her blade was different from her in many ways. Brighid had a fondness for style and elegance that Morag never really saw the point in, herself. Her blade was always pointing out dresses and accessories that she thought would be flattering on Morag. Still, Brighid never failed to impress her with the discipline she could maintain while looking good, too. Morag envied her that, in a way. It was as if competence and discipline came so naturally to Brighid that she had time for frivolities like fashion.

She walked out of the inn, still stretching, perking up at the sound of clashing steel. She glanced towards the edge of the village. There was a small fenced-off area of beaten dirt, with some training dummies. Some mercenaries were already training there, dueling each other, or taking blows at the training dummies. Vandham was there too, leaning up against a cave wall, arms crossed, watching his men train. Nia was there, too, sitting on top of a crate, kicking her legs, watching the dueling mercenaries with idle interest.

Morag made her way over to the training grounds. Vandham nodded at her as she approached, leaning back against the cave wall next to him. "Surprised to see you and your men up this early," she remarked. "You were up drinking pretty late."

"Work hard, play hard, that's our motto." Vandham betrayed no hint of exhaustion, despite having drank more than any man Morag had ever seen drink in her life the night before. "You ask the best of these guys, ask for their lives, you gotta give them the opportunity to enjoy themselves."

Morag laughed softly. "That's certainly not the philosophy of the Ardainian officer corps. There's curfews. Even leave is strictly regulated."

Vandham grimaced, then scratched his chin. "Well. You Ardainians do tend to fight with big bloody machines. I can see why you might want to make sure your men are as clear-headed as possible doing that."

"Don't get me wrong. I do think...it can be a bit overbearing." Morag looked down at her boots for a moment. "We ask so much of them, and barely give them time for their own lives. Our soldiers, I mean." She sighed, pushing it out of her mind. "I do have to say, I was...thinking your mercenary group was an undisciplined bunch of rabble-rousers. With the way your man talked back to you yesterday."

Vandham glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his face inscrutable. "I encourage my men to speak up when they think I'm wrong," he said after a moment. "Anytime, anywhere. They know I'm not infallible. Ain't going to pretend to be. But everyone knows, everyone here would put their lives on the line for everyone else. My men love each other." He yelled at the dueling mercenaries. "Ain't that right, Richter! Don't you and Carrack there love each other!"

Richter, a tall, lithe Gormotti man with hair in a long, flowing brown ponytail, fighting with a spear, paused and made a kiss face at his opponent. "Love ya, Carrack. So much."

Carrack, a shorter, squat Urayan man, with a build more like Vandham's, if quite a bit shorter, fighting with a greataxe, clutched his chest. "Oh, Richter. Right in the heart, you got me. You're so sweet. Marry me, Richter."

"How many kids do you want, Carrack? If….if they're yours, I want...a lot."

"Oh Richter. Take me now, you gorgeous hunk of-"

"Alright, alright, we get the point," Vandham said laughing. "Get back to your duel. No...pick up...don't actually kiss. Titan's foot, you took it too far."

Morag raised an eyebrow as the two mercenaries laughed, breaking up their embrace, and went back to dueling each other. "Definitely different from how Mor Ardain does it," she said simply. "I take advice from my men, but letting them talk back to a commander in front of others is considered a major breach of discipline."

Vandham tapped one of his massive boots on the ground, quiet for a moment. "Yeah, maybe that's the problem."

"How do you mean?"

Vandham turned his head to gaze at her, his eyes steely beneath the scars criss-crossing his face. "You said you didn't want the war, right? I know how Ardainian military standards work. How many of your men, former soldiers, citizens, do you think might think it's a bad idea too? And how many do you think just keep their heads down and mouths shut, because that's how they learned to think of their leaders?"

Morag was silent, saying nothing.

"Look, I don't want to get political here." Vandham scratched his head. "But if my Queen said she wanted to start some mutton-headed war, I wouldn't be shy about marching right up to her castle and calling her an idiot for it. Not just me, any Urayan wouldn't be shy about it. I've talked with Yew, and...I know you just don't do that in Mor Ardain."

"That's the way it's always been," Morag replied, quietly. She wanted to speak up for her country, to defend it, but...with a twisting in her gut, she knew Vandham was giving voice to doubts that she herself had. "But you have a point."

"And it's been getting worse and worse. War, after war, after war, and you guys get more brutal, more ambitious with each one. I know you need territory because your Titan is sinking...but don't you think you have enough by now? You could have colonized Gormott ages ago. A lot of people think..." Vandham sighed, throwing up his hands. "Sorry. I went and got political. Look, don't think just because you're my guest you have to sit there and take it. If you think I'm being an idiot, let me know."

"No." Morag shook her head. "It's...interesting to hear firsthand what other countries think of the Empire. Informative. What do people think about us?"

Vandham gave her a steady, searching look. The only noise was the sound of clashing blades from the nearby duel. "They think you want to conquer the world. Do you...know what people call Mor Ardain, in other countries?"

Morag's mouth became a thin, angry line. "They call us...the Clockwork Demon." She had seen the propaganda posters. It was a common motif for other countries. Mor Ardain, portrayed as a towering construct of gears and pipes, Ardainian soldiers with skulls for faces pouring out of it, guns, bombs, steel, fire, death.

Vandham looked down at his hands, rubbing a thumb and forefinger together. "They call you that," he said quietly, "Because they're so damn afraid of you. Everyone is." A moment of long silence passed between them. "Do you want to know why I stayed neutral in the war so far? Even though Mor Ardain started it?"

The memory of the day the war started was a painful one for Morag. The Brionac party had been gaining influence for generations, and after recent elections, finally had come to dominate the Senate, to the point where they could override an Emperor's veto. They had set forth a proposal for the initiation of conflict. Her brother had been firmly against the war, but, for the first time in Mor Ardain's history, the Senate had initiated a major conflict without the approval of the Emperor. Morag had been in Mor Ardain at the time, and she could remember her brother, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion, hollow-eyed and torn apart by the impending war, arguing with his Generals, only just barely managing to convince them to stall an invasion of Uraya itself. And she remembered the night he had broken down, weeping in her arms, in the privacy of the imperial suite, feeling as if he had failed as an Emperor, failed the Empire, failed to prevent it from walking down the wrong path that would see its men butchered. Morag had been shocked, at first. Her brother normally handled the duties of Emperor so well, for someone his age. But that night had reminded her that her brother was still just a child, a sweet child, caught up in the horrors of a system breaking down beyond his control, and he needed his big sister. He had been embarrassed after, of course, told her to never speak to anyone of it. But ever since, Morag had felt her heart twist when she thought of her little brother, the Emperor, and how vulnerable he was. And she would never, ever tell anyone, but after that night, after she had gone home, in the privacy of her room, she had wept for him, herself.

"It's because," Vandham continued, when she didn't say anything, "Every Ardainian I ever met told me they didn't want the war. And it hit me. _Ardainians are scared of Mor Ardain, too._ When I saw you, I thought maybe I'd get to know someone who actually did see the merit in the war, being the right hand of the Emperor. And then I find out...even you, _even the Emperor himself, _didn't want the war." He looked away, lost in thought. "And I think...maybe all the Ardainians caught up in this, deserve the chance to stop the Clockwork Demon's gears from the inside."

"Mor Ardain isn't all bad, you know," Morag replied, her head still lost in thoughts of her brother. "We've helped. During the Aegis war."

"I know. But...maybe you just don't know how the rest of the world sees you. This war...it's really gone too far this time. People are scared." Vandham looked down at his boots. "Hell, I'm scared, and I don't scare easily."

Morag knew what she wanted Mor Ardain to be. She wanted it to be the strong helping hand, the disciplined leader in crisis, the steady rock the world could depend upon. But…maybe Vandham was right. This war was going too far. No one could see the beauty of Mor Ardain if they were terrified of it. Her brother had done a superb job at delaying the invasion of Uraya, so far. He had split off some of the more moderate elements of the Brionac party that were willing to settle for a tribute of food and agreed that a full-scale invasion of Uraya would make negotiations more difficult. Hopefully that would be enough. But she found herself longing to talk to him. This war...had to be stopped. Mor Ardain couldn't be remembered by history as the Clockwork Demon. The world….Mor Ardain deserved the chance to show the world how beautiful it could be.

"Sorry," Vandham said, and Morag was surprised to see the big man looking somewhat bashful. "I went and talked your ear off. It isn't every day you get the chance to talk to the right hand of the Emperor."

"No, not at all," Morag replied. "I...appreciate it. Really. It's a perspective you don't get in Mor Ardain. I...can't say I disagree. If anyone is going to stop this war now, it has to be Ardainians who do it."

"Well, if everything really goes to hell, and we end up facing each other on the battlefield, at least we'll have had this little talk." Vandham grinned at her. "I still think it will will turn out alright. Ardainians like you, you give me hope." Turning to the dueling mercenaries, he shouted. "Hey! Carrack! I saw that, Richter tapped you there. It's my turn now. You take a few laps around the village."

Morag was quiet, lost in thought, as Vandham got up to walk forward into the duel.

**15.**

Slowly, the party woke up and trickled towards the training ground, as the light rose. Dromarch strolled over merely to lie down in a sunny patch and immediately fall asleep again. Tora was the last to rise, his fur ruffled and messy, Poppi fretting over it and attempting to comb it as the nopon bounced over.

Vandham cast an eye around once everyone had joined them, taking a step back from instructing his men. He pulled up a crate to sit down on while the party gathered in a circle around him, sitting on stacked crates themselves, or leaning up against the cave wall. "Right," he said, scratching his chin. Then his eyes darted up to Rex. "So why don't you tell me what the Aegis and his driver are planning to do?"

Rex glanced around, looking at the assorted faces of his companions, and finally at Malos, who simply nodded at him. "We're planning on going to Elysium," he said, finally.

Vandham crossed his arms, fixing him with a penetrating gaze that made Rex feel like he was being nailed to the wall. "Elysium, huh? And why do you want to go there?"

Rex scratched the back of his head, measuring his words carefully. "I...even before I met Malos, I wanted to find Elysium. The Titans...they've been vanishing. The amount of land people have to live on is trickling away. People are afraid. And it's causing war, and pain, and misery, because there's just not enough to go around. But if we found Elysium...a land with so much bounty, there'd be no more need for war. Everyone could be secure, and live in peace. I think...I really think it's the only chance we've got."

"You really believe in this?"

Rex looked up, meeting Vandham's gaze with his own, his eyes flashing with fire and determination. "Yes. It's my dream. I don't give a damn how foolish it sounds."

Vandham looked around at the rest of the party, his arms still crossed. "And the rest of you, you believe in this dream?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Tora really just here for the adventure," Tora piped up, completely unashamed. "Not sure about Elysium and all that. But Tora is all about the journey, not the destination!"

"Poppi follow masterpon's orders," chirped the robot. "Poppi not sure what necessity of Elysium is. Poppi is fine with three cubic meters of space and one liter of ether oil a week. Really need Elysium for this? Poppi not think so. But Poppi appreciate Rex's enthusiasm!"

Morag shifted her feet, crossing her arms. "I...only recently joined up with Rex, really. And my duty is to keep track of the Aegis on behalf of the Ardainian Empire. Elysium..." she glanced at Rex, not wanting to hurt his feelings. "It sounds like a very noble dream. I'm not sure of the feasibility of it."

Rex blushed, embarrassed, feeling like a bit of a fool, that nobody he was traveling with really thought his goal was worthwhile.

"I believe in it," Nia said quietly. She couldn't help but smile to herself at the appreciative grin Rex gave her.

Vandham's gaze turned towards her, and she became more anxious. To be honest, the big man intimidated her. Not for any real reason, it was just...he was so damn huge. Nia doubted she weighed even one third what the man did. And so thick with muscle, and grizzled...something about him just spoke of immediate violence, all the time, and it made Nia nervous. His gruff manner of speech didn't help. "You do, now? And why's that?"

Nia averted her gaze, looking down at the ground. "World is...going to hell, really. Only solutions most people seem to have are...more wars, more pain, more violence. Always getting something at the expense of someone else. Rex is..." she looked over to Rex, considering. "He's the first person I met who wanted to help everyone. Even if Elysium seems like some sort of fantastic dream right now...I want to believe in the beautiful things he does." Nia stopped, surprised at herself for saying that.

Vandham was quiet for a moment, studying them all. "Sounds good to me," he said, finally.

"What, really?" Rex said, surprised. "This is usually the part where people give me a sorry look, or tell me I'm stupid."

"Nah. Sounds like a great goal to me. I mean I won't lie, kid, I think it's a long shot. But what the hell, why not?" Vandham grinned at them, his eyes flashing. "So have you tried getting near the World Tree, then?"

"Uh yeah, that's sort of how we ended up here…." Rex began. Vandham listened attentively as Rex recounted their attempt to get to the World Tree, foiled by Ophion.

"So, you're a bit stuck," Vandham said, scratching his chin.

Malos laughed. "Well. I wasn't expecting to get there right away, you know. But yeah, for now, we're just trying to figure out what to do."

"Well," Vandham said, throwing his arms wide, "I'm not exactly sure how to help you get to Elysium just yet. But I know any venture like that takes a lot of capital. Why don't you lot stay with us for now? We could always use more hands on these missions, and the pay is good."

Rex slammed a fist into his palm. "That's right, pay. I almost forgot. We need to make some money to pay back Turuni."

"Turuni? Who?" Malos asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rex turned to him. "You know. The nopon back in Gormott." He folded his arms. "The one you threatened, yeah?"

"What?" Malos rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you were actually planning on paying him back."

"Uh, yes, of course," Rex replied. "Don't be ridiculous."

Malos groaned, then shrugged. "Well. Sounds like as good a plan as any for now."

Vandham rose from his seat. "Look. I got a mission to investigate some blockage up near the blowhole tomorrow. Why don't you all come with me? It's a nice relaxed first mission. Sightseeing trip, really. You should be paying _me _for it, honestly." He waved one of his massive arms over the village. "We'll meet here tomorrow morning. Till then, feel free to enjoy yourselves."

Vandham turned around and headed back to train his men.

Before she could walk away, Morag approached Nia. The Gormotti girl looked up at her curiously, eyebrows raised. "Aye? What is it?"

"Nia. I realized this morning...I never properly thanked you for the healing."

Nia waved her hand dissmissively. "Feh. It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"It's not nothing," Morag said seriously. "It's not everyone who would go out of their way to heal up a former enemy. You have a lot of compassion."

Nia laughed, grinning with sharp teeth up at the older woman. "Oh yeah. Compassion. I'm just oozing it."

"I was wondering if there was something I could do to repay you."

"No, no, it's fine….wait, actually." Nia put her hands on her hips and squinted curiously up at Morag. "You're Ardainian." 

Morag gave a small laugh. "So they say."

"You don't happen to have, ah….these little bear carvings, do you? I know they're popular in Mor Ardain..."

Morag raised an eyebrow, then reached into a pocket. She knew what Nia was talking about. A lot of soldiers carried them as good luck charms. Morag wasn't the superstitious sort herself, but she had gotten plenty as gifts from citizens, even men under her command. Little trinkets, really. Ardainian soldiers would pass them around and gift them as jokes.

Nia's eyes widened as she pulled out a few of the small bear carvings. "Oh. My gosh. These things are so damn cute. Lookit this one, he's wearing a little helmet!" She laughed delightedly, poking at the carvings. "Can...I have one?"

"Take them all," Morag shrugged. "I've got dozens."

Nia's eyes widened, and it was honestly charming to see the sheer joy on her face. She laughed as she took the bear carvings. One was of a soldier on its hind legs, dressed up as an Ardainian soldier, wearing a tall, conical helmet and carrying a rifle. Another was a bear looking suspicious as it dipped a paw into a pot of honey. The last one was a bear dressed up as a scavenger, one of Mor Ardain's major businesses. "Oh, thank you!" Nia exclaimed. "I always wanted to learn to carve these myself, but I never had the time. I..." suddenly, she seemed to become aware of how giddy she was acting. "Uh. Yeah. Thanks."

Morag made a mental note to herself to keep an eye out for more of the bear carvings for Nia, as the girl walked away with her prizes. They came in a variety of shapes and levels of skill, and it was always nice to find one that really suited somebody. She'd probably have to get to know the girl a bit better before she could figure out what kind of bear carving Nia would really like.

**16.**

"Hey, Vandham!" Rex called, lingering behind after everyone left. Well, not quite everyone. Malos was still leaning up against the cave wall, talking to what looked to be quite the awestruck mercenary. And Nia...she had taken up position near the training grounds. Rex looked curiously as she stacked what looked like little figurines on the top of a crate, then pulled out a hunk of wood and a dagger, and set to work carving it.

"Yeah?" The big man said, turning around from a couple of dueling mercenaries. "What is it, kid?"

"I was wondering...would you train me to use the sword?"

Vandham's eyes lit up. If there was one thing he liked, it was polishing an amateur into a disciplined warrior. "Absolutely," he said, cheerfully. "First things first, let me take a look at that sword you got there."

"Here you go!" Rex said cheerfully. "I made it myself!"

Vandham waved the junk sword Rex gave him around dubiously. The blade rattled in its hilt.

"Ah yeah, it gets loose sometimes. I just gotta tighten-"

"Look, Rex." Vandham stuck the sword in the ground. "Why don't you just use your blade's weapon? That's how it normally works." He looked up at Malos. "Hey, Malos, why are you making this poor kid use this piece of crap? Why doesn't he use your weapon?"

"H-hey," Rex said, abashed.

Malos glanced up from his conversation with the mercenary. "Hey, he uses it sometimes. But if you think I'm just going to let him use my sword all the time, you're nuts."

"Aegis rules, huh?" Vandham replied, sighing.

"Aegis rules." Malos gave him an apologetic shrug, then went back to talking to the mercenary.

"Right." Vandham cast his eyes around, finally settling on a nearby weapon rack. "First things first. Let's get you a proper weapon. You like the sword?"

"Uh...yeah. But hey, I don't want to take anything from you-"

"Don't worry about it, kid. If there's anything this camp has a surplus of, it's weapons. Better you have it than for it to just lay on the rack collecting dust." Vandham walked over to the rack, scratching his chin thoughtfully, before removing a simple, practical claymore from it. He offered it to Rex. "Here. Take a few swings of this."

Rex took the weapon with a bit of reverence. He had never really had a weapon crafted for actual war, all his own, before. Just his...well, crappy junk sword. He took some swings with the weapon, his eyes widening. "Wow. This is way easier to swing than my sword. Even though it seems heavier overall."

Vandham rolled his eyes. "Yeah. That's called weighting." He looked around. "Hey Roc! Why don't you get over here and duel Rex. Wanna get an idea of what we're working with."

The bird-blade leapt down from a nearby ledge where he had been lounging, landing with a burst of wind that nearly toppled Rex in itself. "Duel the shrimp? If you say so, Vandham." His scythes appeared in his talon-like hands.

"Whoa! You can talk?" Rex exclaimed.

"Yeah, but it's just a party trick," Vandham growled.

"Party trick! Party trick!" Roc said.

"Oh. Uh...really?" Rex scratched his head.

Roc shook his feathers merrily as Vandham laughed. "Nah kid. I'm messing with you. I can talk. Let's duel."

Vandham watched carefully as Rex engaged the blade, observing his form as Roc nimbly dodged all his attacks, or casually parried those he didn't dodge. He held up a hand to stop them after a few moments. "Your footwork isn't bad. But you commit too much to every swing. Big weapon like that, you don't want to take a big swing unless you really know it's gonna land. It leaves you exposed. Most of the time, you want to just prod and let the weapon do most of the work. It's heavy, it'll cut deep even if you don't put all your strength behind it. Here, let me show you..."

Vandham and Rex ended up training most of the day. The boy was a quick learner, humble, willing to admit when he didn't know anything, which was good – really, that was half the battle of training right there, in Vandham's experience. And he had an inexhaustible store of energy. Even when he was soaking in sweat so much that he pulled his shirt off, he wanted to keep going even when Vandham paused to catch his breath. By the time the sun had begun to set, Vandham had made more progress in teaching him some of the basics than he made with most men in a week.

"Alright, alright, kid," Vandham said, wiping sweat from his brow, as another duel ended. "That's enough from me for today. Don't wanna kill yourself."

"Really?" Rex looked somewhat disappointed. "Alright. But we can keep doing this, right?"

Vandham barked a laugh. "Sure. Wish all my recruits were as enthusiastic as you after their first day."

"Hey, Rex." Malos' voice rang out across the training ground. The other mercenary men had left a while ago. It was now just Vandham, Rex, Roc and Malos on the training grounds. And, Rex noted, Nia, sitting cross-legged on top of one of the nearby crates, watching them with an inscrutable expression on her face, eyes gleaming. "If you still want to train, I think it's about time we practiced."

"Sure!"

Vandham gave the two of them a concerned look. "Don't go killing yourself," he said. "You got a mission tomorrow."

"Don't worry," Nia piped up, softly. Vandham glanced over at her. "I'll make sure he doesn't take it too far." Her tone was soft, but carried an undercurrent of threat.

Vandham stared at her for a moment, then nodded, walking off with Roc to dinner at the inn.

"Well, what are we gonna do?" Rex said, picking up his sword, staring at Malos, the light dying around them. "Duel?"

"No." Malos sat cross-legged in the dirt, summoning his sword to his hand in a burst of dark flame. "Come here. Sit."

Rex sat across from Malos, crossing his legs as well, and stared up at the Aegis expectantly. When Malos offered him his sword, he took it, laying it across his legs.

"Close your eyes," Malos intoned. "And envision, a hole."

"A hole in what?" Rex said, furrowing his eyebrows, his eyes closed.

"Nothing but a hole. The very concept of a hole itself."

Rex shrugged, and did his best. In his mind's eye, he held a flat, black circle. As he concentrated, time seemed to slow down. The hole grew larger, larger, frighteningly large, consuming. Rex tried to open his eyes, but found his eyelids weighed down.

Malos' voice floated to him, as if from far away. "Don't panic. The best way to understand my power...is to realize this hole is everything. Everything you know, everything you love, every_one_ you love, all of reality has this fundamental hole of nothing in it. When you drill down...to the very bones, the very basics of reality...you realize it all spawns from nothing." And now, the hole in Rex's mind, humongous, all-encompassing, erupted with pitch black flames at its edges. "And that is what my power is. I just remind reality that it is fundamentally nothing."

"This...is awful," Rex whispered. 

"This is truth. Open your eyes."

Rex opened his eyes. Malos, in front of him, was...changed. Malos _was _black flame. A pillar of it, drifting lazily upwards. And reality around them...seemed dimmed, different. It was grey, monotone...except wherever life was. The fungus growing on the walls glowed with gold light. Rex looked around, to where Nia was sitting. She was a barely distinguishable ball of golden glowing light in the shape of a girl. He looked down at himself. He was glowing with golden light, as well.

"As my driver," said the flame, and it barely sounded like Malos anymore, it sounded like a howling hunger, it sounded like emptiness, it sounded like the end of the world, "You need to realize that I am already there, in everything. Use me."

Rex raised his hand, and the dark flame appeared on it, running along the golden glow of his arm. Where it met the golden glow, the dark flame drained it, dimmed it. Rex watched, with mounting alarm, as the flame spread across his entire body. He could feel the pain beginning to pour in now. But it was a very tolerable level of pain, so far.

"That rock," said the flame, and a tendril reached out from it, pointing to a small boulder at the edge of the training grounds, maybe about as big as Rex's head. "Remind it that it does not exist."

Rex raised his hand, and he felt the dark flame pulse within him, felt it eating away at the golden glow. He saw himself dim slightly, felt a sudden shock of pain. The rock...suddenly wasn't. All that was left in its place was a small, dark flame.

"Inanimate objects are easy to remind. Life...is more difficult. Life fights back. Even simple life." The black flame pointed to a patch of grass. "The grass. Undo it."

Rex lifted his hand again, and this time he felt a much deeper stab of pain as he called upon the dark flame. And he could...feel, in its own, extremely primitive way, the grass, struggling against its unmaking, wanting to live, not just live, wanting to _be…_

And then it was gone.

"Using me," said the flame, "is an exercise in control. Reminding others, while forgetting yourself. And to use me effectively, you must know very, very well what the slightest drop of me feels like."

Rex looked watched himself as the dark flame on him grew, and the golden light of his...being, dimmed. The pain grew, slowly at first, and then ramping up quickly as his light dimmed, stabbing him, deep down in his core, until the pain was throbbing behind his eyes, and-

And then it was over. Rex sat gasping, pouring sweat. The training ground looked normal again, except that now it was much closer to night, the light taking on a rosy purple hue. Malos sat in front of him again, Malos the man, not Malos the pillar of dark flame. Rex looked around. The fungus was just normal fungus again. Nia was Nia, not the ball of golden light. She was on her feet, her hands clenched into fists. Malos reached out and put a hand on Rex's shoulder as he caught his breath. "Not a bad first time," Malos said.

"That really," Rex gasped, "Wasn't what I was expecting."

Malos laughed. "Addam said the exact same thing his first time, too. It won't always be like that. Sometimes we'll just duel. But sometimes we'll do our little...meditations. Sound good? You feel okay?"

Rex looked up at the blade, the pain fading away into a deep ache. It had exhausted him more than a day of training with Vandham had. Malos certainly seemed happy with him, though. "Sure thing," he grinned. "It wasn't so bad."

"Good man." Malos got to his feet, stretching. "I could use some dinner. You?"

As Rex followed the Aegis off the training ground, he was stopped by an insistent tug on his arm. He spun around to see Nia staring at him. She looked angry at first, like she wanted to yell at him, but her expression softened. "Are you alright?" she asked, softly.

"Yeah. He didn't push me too far. I mean, that's the point of this, right? To get me used to using his power."

"Hmm. I am glad to see you keeping your promise." Nia sighed. "I suppose it can't be helped." She reached out, putting her hands on his arm.

"You don't have to heal me. I can get used to going without it."

"Shhh," Nia said, closing her eyes, and Rex felt the ache in his muscles soothing, washing away. She stepped back, putting her hands on her hips. "I have to say, it was some weird training. You just sat there, and then all of a sudden you had that black fire all over you."

"Huh?" Rex crossed his arms. "You didn't hear what he said?"

"He didn't say anything. You just sat across from each other, and then that black flame was on you. Then you burnt up a rock and some grass, and then it burned on you for a while, and then it was over."

"But, he said-" Rex stopped, thinking back to what Malos had told him about his power. Maybe it was better if Nia didn't hear about that. "Ah, forget it."

"Hey. Check this out," Nia said, as they both began walking back to the inn. She handed him a small rough carving.

Rex stopped by a torch to examine it in the light. "Oh. Uh, what's this supposed to be? A fat snowman? With feathers?"

"What?" Nia snapped at him. "That's a bear. _Obviously._" She crossed her arms, looking away. "I thought I did a good job. Whatever."

Rex tilted the carving again. "Wait. From this angle, it looks more like a garbage can with saucers for ears."

"Oi! Give that back!"

"Or maybe...huh, now it looks like a Tirkin if he was throwing up."

"Shut up. I'll get better. Should have known you wouldn't appreciate art." She grabbed the carving away from him with a huff.

Rex laughed. "How about a bet? Looks like there's a big market here. I bet I can tag Vandham in a duel before you can carve a bear someone will buy."

"You cocky bastard. Fine. If I win, you owe me another seafood dinner. At a restaurant this time, not something you dredge up from the ocean."

"Right, sounds good. Loser buys the winner dinner." He stuck out his hand. "Let's shake on it."

They shook. "You are going down so bad," Rex laughed.

"I am gonna absolutely destroy you. Via the medium of bear carvings," Nia replied.

**17.**

The party gathered early the next morning by the training grounds, Vandham having set an early schedule for them. Tora was, again, the last to arrive, looking a bit bleary eyed, practically dragged there, in fact, by Poppi. "Ugh," the nopon said, standing next to everyone. "Tora not realize adventure mean getting up so early. Why we can't sleep in and leave around noonish?"

"The blowhole's a bit of a hike," Roc said, shaking out his wings. "We want to get out there and be back before nightfall, we have to leave early."

"Oh. Birdiepon can talk?" Tora asked in surprise.

"Why is it that everyone thinks I don't talk?" Roc said irritably.

"It's because you're a real _bird-brain,_" Vandham said, as everyone groaned. "Eh?" He nudged his blade with one massive arm.

"Wow, Vandham. And here I was thinking, there's no way that joke would be funny the five hundredth time he's said it. But you've gone and proved me wrong." Roc shook his head.

Vandham glanced around at the party, and suddenly his eyes settled on Brighid. "Ah, damn," he muttered to himself. "We're going to need to get you in a disguise if we're gonna leave camp. Can't risk someone seeing the Jewel of Mor Ardain, even in the backwaters of Uraya."

Brighid sighed, resignedly. "Well. As long as it's not another maid outfit," she said, glaring at Tora.

"Nah, nothing like that. Come with me, I got just the thing."

A short time later, Vandham returned. At his side was Brighid, though she was barely recognizable. In place of her dress, she wore a bulky military vest, camo pants, and thick leather boots. Her hair was concealed beneath a mud-green helmet, and even her face was painted up in green and brown camoflage.

Morag raised an eyebrow at the sight of her blade. "I must say, Brighid. It suits you."

Brighid's face was stone. "At least it's not the maid outfit," she muttered. "I don't think the camo paint on my face was strictly necessary, though."

They took off from the village, led by Vandham into the extensive cave system that made up Uraya's interior. Their path was a somewhat strenuous one, having to do a lot of climbing to make their way up to Uraya's blow-hole. Many of the tunnels and caverns Vandham led them through had a steep incline. Nia, riding on Dromarch's back, had an easy time of it, but even she was astounded by the pace Vandham could set. The man hardly seemed to tire at all. Only Rex really seemed to have the boundless energy to keep up with him.

Along the way, Vandham pointed out various features of Uraya's wildlife to them. The caverns might be idyllic, but Uraya's fauna was as dangerous as ever. There were the gigantic, walking flowers, which Vandham said were called 'Walker traps', giant packs – herds really – of Volffs, and gigantic, horned, wild Arduns, covered in scales as thick as armor, the smallest of them easily twice the size of Vandham. On a few occasions, he herded them into bushes while the giant creatures passed by, their footsteps shaking the ground as they walked.

Brighid walked by Roc as they traveled up another long, winding tunnel. "I have to say, those are really some unusual weapons you have there."

Roc glanced upwards, towards Vandham, who was carrying the unwieldy looking scythes that the bird-blade controlled. "Hah. You're telling me. Vandham's the only guy I know who can use anything like them. Anyone else tends to cut themselves to ribbons."

"I can appreciate that," Brighid replied. She summoned one of her swords to her hand. "I also have an unusual pair of weapons. I am so fortunate to be bonded to Lady Morag, who can wield them with grace."

Roc eyed the weapon. "Looks like a normal sword, to me," he said.

"Ah. But watch." With a flick of the wrist, the sword broke apart, so that it became a long, bladed whip.

Roc's eyes lit up. "Now _that_ is a weapon!" he whistled appreciatively. "I have to ask, how long did it take your driver to get used to that?"

"Well, it was difficult at first. But..."

As Brighid and Roc bonded over their appreciation for exotic weaponry, Vandham, at the head of the group, nudged Rex, who was trudging along beside him. "So, kid. What's it like, being the driver of the Aegis?"

Rex shook his head, ruefully. "To be honest with you, it's still all new to me, in a lot of ways. I just hope to be able to be a good driver someday."

Vandham scratched his chin. "Yeah. Doesn't help that the Aegis isn't at all like other blades." He looked back at Malos, who was bringing up the rear, lazily swinging his sword at the long grass they were walking through, keeping an eye out behind them for trouble.

"Yeah, Nia told me something like that. I mean, it's not like I have a point of reference, though. I never had a normal blade."

"A normal blade….it's a partnership, yeah? Me and Roc, we share weapons, and Roc can empower me through the ether bond we share – make me stronger, faster, tougher." Vandham glanced down at Rex. "And we both have each other's backs, yeah? The ether bond we share – I can get a sense of what Roc's feeling, through it. Makes us….in-tune."

Rex shook his head. "Man. I don't get that at all. I...don't feel anything like that through Malos' bond. I can't ever tell what he's thinking. Unless he tells me, of course."

"What do you feel? Through the bond?" Vandham asked curiously.

Rex was quiet for a moment. "Power," he said simply. "A...whole lot of it. Power that...gets magnified when it flows to me. Power that..." Rex shook his head.

"Power that what?"

"Power that burns him up," Nia said, riding up next to them on Dromarch. She gave Rex a frown.

Vandham nodded, glancing down at her. "D'you feel….like what you have with Malos is a partnership?"

"Sometimes," Rex said. He glanced behind him, as if to make sure Malos wasn't listening. "Sometimes, though….I just feel like I'm sort of along for the ride." He laughed, lightheartedly. "I guess that's probably to be expected when it's the Aegis though, yeah?" He glanced up in surprise as Vandham put giant hand on his shoulder.

"Rex. I know you're your own man. But you ever feel like things are getting...out of your control, with Malos, you let me know. Ain't no shame in it." Vandham's steely eyes were softened, somewhat, with concern. "S'all I'm gonna say."

Nia looked up at the big man in new light, appreciatively. Maybe the big oaf saw what she saw. And...well, he was another big, tough warrior for Rex to look up to. One that wasn't Malos. Maybe it was good having him around.

It was a little past noon when they finally arrived at the blowhole. Or, at least, as close to the blowhole they could get. The hole itself was still a good few hundred meters up. But they exited from a tunnel onto a large ledge, overlooking a gargantuan cavern. Looking down from the edge, Rex could see that it must have been miles long, and they were probably a couple thousand feet above the cavern proper. Humongous forests of trees with waving, purple leaves, beautiful, multicolored rock formations, and a lake of sky-blue water. Rex whistled. "Man, now that is a view. Hey, Nia, come check it out!"

"No thank you!"

Rex glanced back at her. The rest of the party was stopping to eat a quick lunch. "C'mon, it's a great view."

"I can see it just fine over here!" She laughed nervously from Dromarch's back. "Oh, yep, what a view."

"My lady is afraid of heights," Dromarch explained to Rex.

"Will you _shut it_," Nia snapped. "I'm not afraid." She hopped down from his back, and forced herself to march towards the edge. "See? I'm..." as the view over the edge became visible, and she realized just how high up they were, she began experiencing vertigo, her head spinning. She cursed inwardly at herself as she began shaking involuntarily. She didn't like heights, but she wasn't usually that bad around them, even very high places, but this drop was really something else. "Fine, I'm afraid," she admitted, backing away from the ledge.

"C'mere," Rex said, holding out his hand. "Gimme your hand."

"What?"

"I had the same thing when I first began salvaging," Rex said. "You go underneath the Cloud ocean, and all you see beneath you is a huge drop of nothing leading down into the dark. Used to scare me silly. Makes a lot of new divers panic, really. That's why they pair off new divers with someone experienced. Having someone to hold on to really calms the nerves."

Nia approached cautiously, taking Rex's hand. He led her gently towards the edge, stopping to let her adjust whenever he felt her tugging back. But soon enough, she was standing on the ledge, overlooking the cavern, and while she was still shaking slightly, she didn't feel overwhelmed by panic.

"Cor, it really is beautiful," she said.

"Told you so." Rex beamed at her.

Nia looked over at him, a small smile on her lips. That smile of his was infectious. In fact, it was a very pretty smile. And in fact, Rex himself was pretty cute. It wasn't the first time she had thought that, so it didn't surprise her, until she realized just how _long _she had been appreciating that fact, just staring at his face. "Ah," she said, suddenly looking away, her eyes widening. "Why don't we go have some lunch, yeah?"

It wasn't long after lunch, a march of perhaps an hour across the wide ledge, until they came across the source of the problem. Morag's eyes widened at the sight of a Titan's corpse. She was skeptical at first, but seeing the bits of metal still bolted into its hide confirmed her suspicion. "That's the Titan from my ship," she said with wonder. "The one I crashed coming into Uraya. I...have to say, I'm surprised it made it all the way up here, poor beast."

Rex crossed his arms. "Huh. If this thing made it all the way up here, maybe there's a way for Gramps to make it out of that cave too. Although Gramps is quite a bit bigger than this guy."

Suddenly, Poppi's head cocked to the side. She looked off into the distance, slightly adjusting her head, for her antennae to pick up vibrations. "Masterpon!" she said. "Poppis is picking up geo-vibrations in a semi-morphic octoganal recurring pattern. Geo-vibrations are of sufficient strength to indicate an estimated mass of-"

"Eh? What Poppi saying?" Tora shook his head with annoyance. "Remember what your masterpon tell you. Keep it simple."

Poppi considered for a few moments. "Something really big with eight legs is headed this way," she declared.

Suddenly, from around the corner of the ledge came a hissing, chittering, skittering sound. Dashing around the corner, with frightening speed, came a nightmare on eight legs. It wasn't fair to call it a spider. Spiders weren't so jagged, didn't have legs covered in thick, chitinous armor, didn't have red streaks down their back that positively glowed with poison. Spiders also didn't tower twice as tall as Vandham. The party drew their weapons as it came into view.

"Ah, damn, an Arachno," muttered Vandham. "Biggest I ever saw, too. And would you look at that..."

Coming into view, marching next to the spider, was a blade. A monstrous one, huge and muscular, with a mouth full of sharp teeth and two horns that trailed back from its head like antennae, completely coated in sleek black chitin, looking very buglike itself.

"Right!" shouted Vandham, crouching into a battle stance. "Name of the game is, don't let it bite you!"

The Arachno gave a hissing roar as it charged them, moving like a blur. Vandham and Roc dodged around it's stomping legs to tackle its blade. Malos, along with Morag and Brighid, ducked among its legs, slashing swords that trailed black and blue flames respectively. Rex rolled beneath it and plunged his claymore into its abdomen, rolling out of the way of the smoking ichor that leaked from the wound. Nia, still on Dromarch's back, was taken for the ride as he leaped out of the way of the charge.

But the Arachno was ignoring all them, charging straight for Tora, apparently deciding he looked like the tastiest morsel of the group. As it descended upon him, opening its massive maw, Poppi leaped in the way, and was taken up in its jaws instead.

"NOOOO!" Yelled Vandham, breaking off from his duel with the spider's blade. "It's deadly poison, I told it not to let it bite you – oh wait, right, she's a robot."

The Arachno hissed in pain and frustration as its poisonous jaws clamped down on Poppi's chassis, only to snap and break on the hard metal. "This is the price for trying to eat Masterpon!" Poppi cried, reeling back and delivering a massive punch to the beast's eight blinking eyes. The Arachno shrieked and dropped its thoroughly disagreeable prey as two of its eyes burst from the impact.

"Poppi!" Tora cried, bouncing over to her. "Is Poppi….alright?"

"No, Masterpon." Poppi coughed weakly. "Poppi is….dying."

"What?! Poppi, no!" Tora cried. "Surely, Tora can fix whatever is wrong...Poppi!"

"Ha ha!" Poppi poked Tora where the nopon's nose would be, if nopon had noses. "Poppi is fine. This is funny trick. This how jokes work, yes?"

Tora growled under his breath, and looked across the battlefield at where Malos was dancing among the Arachno's legs, slashing left and right. "Tora blame Aegis for this," he muttered.

Meanwhile, the Arachno was apparently coming to the conclusion that its newfound blade was actually not enough for it to take out this group. It spun around, splattering smoking ichor from a dozen wounds everywhere, looking for an easy escape. Its blade, stuck in a duel with Vandham and Roc, roared in frustration, seeing the pain its driver was in, and charged past them towards its master, only to be viciously mauled by Dromarch. As her blade sank its fangs into the Arachno's blade, Nia grabbed the spear it was carrying and gave it a heave, tossing it over the edge of the cliff.

The Arachno itself found its path cut off, driven back further and further towards the edge of the cliff by the slashing, prodding blades of Rex, Malos, Morag and Vandham. As it neared the edge of the cliff, Vandham gave a clever grin, and aimed his wrist winch at its legs. With a whirring hiss, his cable wrapped around its legs, whipping two of them out from underneath it, and the Arachno, with a startled chatter, slipped, and stumbled, and…

The Arachno's blade roared with despair as the giant Arachno went tumbling over the edge of the cliff, disappearing with a thin squeal off the dizzying edge. It looked up at the group with hatred in its eyes, but then seemed to think better of it, and sat back, resigned to its fate, waiting for the inevitable end. A few moments later, the distant sound of the Arachno splattering on the rocks below echoed through the cave, and the blade closed its eyes as, with a flash of light, it disappeared back into its core crystal.

Rex grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. He felt accomplished – like he had just gotten through his first major battle without needing to rely on Malos' power. "Man, I didn't even know monsters could resonate with blades," he said.

"It's rare, but it does happen." Vandham bent down to pick up the monstrous core crystal, holding it up to the light. "It must have come across this Titan shortly after it died. Core crystals spawn from dead Titans, see."

"You're gonna have to show me how to do that thing with your anchor shot." Rex held up his wrist, pointing to his. "I only know how to use this thing to salvage. And fish, I guess."

"Oh yeah, because it was so good for that," Nia said sarcastically.

"Should take this one a while to recharge," Vandham said to himself quietly, looking at the grey, lifeless color of the core crystal. He turned around, tossing it to Rex, but Malos appeared suddenly, intercepting the crystal.

He stared at it with an inscrutable, unreadable expression, nothing but his typical smirk playing across his features. After a few moments, he shrugged, tossing it to Rex. He looked around at the party, everyone spattered with at least some of the Arachno's ichor. Except for him. He had managed to avoid it entirely, somehow. "Man, you guys look gross," he said. "Think it's time to head back and hit the showers."

**18.**

The march back to the village was significantly easier than the march up to the blowhole had been, being mostly downhill. Still, after stopping for dinner along the way, it was nearing nightfall as they made their way back.

They were fairly close to Garfont village when they entered a large cave, where most of it was concealed by the shadows of nightfall. Roc was the first to notice that something was wrong. "Boss," he called out in alarm. "Something's up. I can't feel our ether bond-"

Nia was riding on Dromarch's back next to Rex, teasing him about the meal he was going to owe her once she won their bet. "Oh, I'm gonna order enough to feed me for a week, definitely," she was musing, when suddenly, there came a muted ssssssssthunk sound, and suddenly Rex was staring down at a black-plumed arrow protruding from his stomach. Nia stared at this in shock, and then with a strangled cry tackled Rex to the ground as more arrows went whizzing through the air where he had stood only moments ago.

"Hmmph," came a hateful voice, echoing from the shadows of the cave, that Nia recognized. If there had been anyone in Torna that she had hated, it was him. Akhos. "My aim's a little rusty. That was meant for his head."

Nia tried to reach through the ether to use her healing, only to find her connection blocked. "No, no no no," she whispered, as Rex gasped for breath, blood pooling beneath him.

"Don't worry," Rex managed to force out. "At least it isn't a sword through my chest this time, huh? It's not too bad."

"You are such a bad liar," Nia replied. But at least he was keeping some semblance of good cheer. That did mean he had some time.

The rest of the party had exploded into action, taking up defensive stances in a circle around Rex. But they quickly discovered that they were cut off from the abilities of their blades.

"That'll be Obrona," Akhos called out to them from the darkness, as his blade tittered to them from some hidden location as well, her laugh grating on Nia's ears. "My blade's got the power to cut you off from the ether. So sorry, Nia," he called out, mockingly, "You won't be healing the boy this time." And then his voice turned flat, deadly. "Or yourself." And another arrow hissed out of the darkness, this time just barely missing Nia's head, carving a small furrow in her cheek, drawing blood.

She slapped a hand to the stinging wound on her cheek in shock. Her hand shook as she pulled it away, seeing the blood on her glove. "What….what are you doing?" she said, her voice unsteady.

"What, did you think Jin was willing to forgive?" Akhos called out, his voice seemingly coming from a different position in the cave now. "He told me to kill you if necessary. And, I have to say, boy oh boy, Nia, I think it's really, really necessary." Dromarch roared as he leaped in front of Nia, shielding her from three more arrows that would have struck her in the stomach, head and heart.

Nia felt her heart freeze at that. Jin...wanted her dead? Really? Just completely...dead?

_Of course he would_, the voice inside her said. _You betrayed him, after all he had done for you. You ran out on the only group of broken people that could accept you for what you really are. The awful thing you are. _

"Who the hell is this guy?" Vandham snarled, peering into the darkness. "What kind of sicko goes straight for the two kids in a group?"

"Not...a kid," Rex struggled to get out.

"Not the time, Rex," Vandham snapped.

"He's….Akhos," said Nia quietly. "A member of Torna."

Vandham became completely still. "Torna?" he asked, his voice thick with rage. "I've tussled with Torna before. They've killed way too many of my men. Good men."

Malos, in the meantime, whispered quietly to Poppi. She nodded, scanning the cave, and then pointed discretely in one direction towards the darkness. With one smooth, quick motion, Malos held out a clawed gauntlet, and snakes of black flame shot from them, twisting, hissing through the air, seeking out into the darkness. He was rewarded with a shrill scream of pain. "Dumbass," he called out, laughing. "Not everyone here has to rely entirely upon ether."

"That right. Poppi equipped with state of the art night-vision and heat-vision powered entirely by internal ether furnace. No need for ether bond with masterpon or atmospheric connection to ether field required!" Poppi piped up, happily.

Malos looked down at her. "Okay. Poppi. You probably shouldn't be telling the enemy what your advantage is. Oh, screw it, not like he can do much about it anyway. Point him out, girl." Poppi happily held an arm out, moving slowly, tracking some point in the darkness, and Malos held forth a claw, spewing black flame into the cave into the darkness where he was pointing.

"Okay, spooky blade, please stop now. Target is hiding behind rocks," Poppi said, lowering her arm.

"It doesn't matter," came Akhos' voice, sounding somewhat ragged. "All I have to do is keep you trapped here and watch him die. Without ether, none of you can heal him in time."

Nia, still somewhat in shock from learning Jin wanted her dead, looked down at Rex. He was holding up, but still losing blood quickly, and becoming paler by the moment. Akhos was right. "You have to find his blade," she called out. "She's blocking the ether flow."

Malos lowered his arm, tsking. Then he paused, considering. "Wait. Poppi. Can't you also use your eyes like lanterns?"

"Oh. Yes. Is this what spooky blade wants?" Poppi's eyes, with a loud click, flashed on, immediately illuminating the portion of the cave she was looking at. They got a momentary glimpse of Akhos' pale face before it darted behind a rock. It also revealed the red particles drifting in the air, product of Obrona's field.

Vandham saw the particles, and snapped his fingers. "Right. Roc, let's have a blast of wind here."

"You got it." The bird blade flapped his powerful wings, and everyone braced themselves as a windstorm surrounded them. But most importantly, it pushed back the red particles in the air, at least enough to make an ether connection.

"NIA!" Vandham roared, against the howling wind. "CAN YOU HEAL HIM NOW?"

Nia shielded her eyes against the debris being kicked up from the wind, and reached out into the ether. Her connection wasn't as strong as it usually was, but it was more than enough to help Rex. She leaned forward, her mouth next to Rex's ear. "Sorry, this is gonna hurt," she cried. And then with a swift yank, she plucked the arrow from his stomach, and immediately put her hands over the gushing wound, pouring her healing into it. Flesh knitted beneath her hands, and it wasn't long before Rex was able to stagger to his feet.

Morag whispered in Brighid's ear, while they were still able to draw upon the ether, and the blade nodded. And suddenly, the cave was blazing with blue flame, lit up entirely with eerie, dancing blue light, the flame spreading through quickly through the grass that filled the cave, setting a tree ablaze. The light of the flame revealed an odd-looking blade, a woman wearing sleek gold and silver metallic armor, with six metallic wings extending from her back, concentrating, red light pulsing from her.

"I guess you want to do this the hard way," came Akhos' voice suddenly, and he leaped out from the shadows like a flash, a sword in each hand. He was quick, flicking in among them to stab, then dancing back into the flickering shadows of the cave. Nia caught only a couple of glimpses of his cold blue eyes. He seemed most intent on trying to sneak past the group's defenses to stab at Rex.

But fast as he might be, he wasn't fast enough to evade the entire group's counter-attacks forever. Eventually, he dashed in for an attack, only for Vandham to anticipate his move and catch his wrist in an iron, vice-like grip. Akhos turned around, raising his sword to stab at the man, only to catch a punch from him that felt like taking a sack of bricks to the face.

Vandham lifted him bodily off the ground, smiling. "Oh, you little shit. Torna's killed way too many of my men. I've been wanting to get my hands on one of you bastards for years. I'm going to enjoy this." With a mighty heave, Vandham dashed him against the nearby cave wall. Akhos gasped as the air was driven from his lungs and he slid down the cold stone.

"AKHOS!" Obrona cried, finally dropping her ether suppression field. She dashed forward, as quick as he was, if not quicker, and grabbed her driver, dragging him away from the group.

"Hmmph," Akhos said, struggling to his feet. "Perhaps it is time for a...tactical retreat." He glanced up at the group, his eyes settling on Nia. "You know you don't belong with them, Nia," he called. "And now that you're a traitor, you don't belong anywhere. Bad things happen to little kittens who make enemies of everybody."

"I...don't believe you, you know," Nia snapped back at him. "I don't think Jin wants me dead."

Akhos rolled his eyes. "Why wouldn't he? Do you think he'd still care for you, after you stabbed him in the back?"

"Ah, technically, I am pretty sure it was _him _stabbing _me_ in the back," Rex interjected.

Akhos ignored him. He snicked quietly, as he melted into the shadows alongside his blade. "What a completely delusional world you must live in, Nia," he laughed. "To think Jin wants anything less than your head on a platter."

**19.**

Nia had left the group the moment they arrived back in the village, quietly fading into the darkness with Dromarch by her side.

Her head was spinning, her heart pounding in her chest, as she wandered away from the lights of the village.

Akhos was...completely right. What a delusional idiot she had been. In her secret heart, she had harbored hopes, however foolish they might be, that she might get to talk to Jin and Pyra again...explain to them why she had done what she did. That...they might understand. In her secret, most foolish heart, there had lived a fantasy of Jin, Pyra and Rex all coming to an understanding with each other...all of them somehow being her friend.

She had always known this was a foolish, forlorn hope. But she had hoped for at least some manner of compromise, something. But...for Jin to actually want her dead…? The kind-hearted man who had rescued her...who had whispered comforts to her as he whisked her away from Indol...given her a place to belong, after so long running…

She couldn't help it. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to laugh, and say she didn't give a damn. But her heart was breaking.

Dromarch was saying something by her side, but she couldn't hear him. All she could hear was the nagging voice inside her telling her she was hopeless. All she could see were Jin's eyes, that had once looked at her with such kindness, kindness she hadn't seen in such a long time, that would never look at her with such kindness again. Her head in a fog, only dimly aware of the world around her.

As if from a great distance, she heard someone calling her name, foggily became aware of someone tugging at her arm. She slowly snapped back to the real world, out of her head, to see, to her surprise, Morag, grabbing her arm, staring at her in the darkness. Brighid was nearby, lighting her path with a blue flame, changed out of her camoflage and military disguise and back into her blue dress. In the distance, the lights of the village twinkled.

"Morag?" Nia said, her thoughts still confused.

"Nia," Morag said, very softly, gently. "Are you all right?"

"I...what're you doing out here?"

"You snuck off from the group as soon as we came back. We….thought you might want some time alone, with what Akhos had said to you. But you never came back to the room, so...Brighid and I went looking for you."

Nia barely heard her. Her thoughts were still muddled. She rubbed her eyes, glancing around. "What am I doing out here?" she muttered. "What...have I been doing?"

"The poor girl," Brighid whispered. "We shouldn't have left her alone."

"Hey," Nia snapped suddenly. "I can take care of myself."

"Well! That seemed to bring her back a bit," Morag said, laughing. She tugged at Nia's arm, gently, but insistently. "Come on, Nia. I think what you need most right now is some sleep."

The older woman led her back to the village. Whatever hour it was, it was late enough so that not even the sounds of partying mercenaries could be heard. Nia's eyes widened as they drew close to the inn, and they saw Rex pacing the streets, holding a torch. His eyes lit up when he saw her. "Oh, you found her," he said to Morag and Brighid. "Nia, are you...was she alright?"

Morag paused, and Nia leaped in. "I'm fine, of course I was fine! You lot worry too much. I was just taking a stroll. I'm a bit of a night owl. It's fine, it's fine."

Morag looked down at the girl, as if deciding. Then she looked up at Rex. "It's true. She was fine when we found her. Seems we were worrying over nothing."

"Oh, that's good." Rex laughed, scratching the back of his head. "I feel like a bit of an idiot. Alright. Goodnight, you three."

Morag and Brighid led Nia back to the girl's room, gently sitting her down in her bed. "Nia," Morag said, quietly, as the girl laid back on her bed and placed a pillow over her face to drown out the outside world, "I know….I may not seem like the most approachable. But if you ever feel like you have something you need to get off your chest, something you don't want to discuss with other people...well, I'm very good at keeping secrets."

Nia removed the pillow from her face, and was about to tell her off, when she was struck by the sudden, overwhelming urge to tell the older woman everything. _Everything. _But she couldn't. As much as she wanted to pour her heart out, her time spent running had taught her too much caution, taught her that betrayal could lurk behind a friendly face. So instead, she laughed away the concern. "There's nothing to tell," she assured them. "Don't worry, I'm fine, really."

And then she threw the pillow over her face again, and finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next day when she woke, her head had cleared quite a bit. She was, at least, able to push her sorrow and sadness down, able to think with a clear head. As she exited the inn, she looked over to the training grounds. Vandham was there, watching over a group of training mercenaries. Rex, too. Good. Having him there...would help. Would make this easier.

Vandham glanced at her as she approached, raising an eyebrow. Hell, he was intimidating, Nia thought. His ferocious gaze, the scars, his sheer size. "Oh. Morning, Nia. You doing alright?"

Nia glared up at him. "I have something to tell you," she said quietly. She caught Rex's eye as she did so, and as she hoped, he walked over to be by her side.

Vandham crossed his arms. "Okay. What is it?" In her mind, his gaze was steel, fire, it was rage and fury, it was the promise of swift and sudden violence.

Nia found herself shaking slightly beneath that gaze. She tried breathing slower. She felt Rex's hand brush against hers, summoned her courage, and said, "Thing is, I used to be in Torna. With Akhos."

Vandham stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. "Well uh, yeah, I figured that," he said. "With the way he was talking to you and all."

Nia stared up at him. "You...don't care?"

Vandham stared down at his hands, rubbing thumb and forefinger together. "Well. You aren't with them now, right? Everyone has a reason for the groups they travel with, yeah? Sometimes...you fall in with a bad lot. Because not everyone is all bad, through and through, right? So maybe, sometimes, you like bad people, for the right reasons. Because you see the goodness in them." Vandham glanced up, that heavy gaze falling upon her again. Only now, the gaze seemed less harsh, less unforgiving, less dangerous. More….understanding. "You're with these guys now. And I can tell they're a good lot. And...I can tell you fit right in."

"But..."

"Past don't matter. What you do with the present does." Vandham turned away from her, back to the training mercenaries. "Oi! Richter! Don't pretend you already did fifty pushups!" He stalked off to yell at his men.

Nia stood still, not sure how to take this. She had half thought Vandham would want to kill her. "Maybe I really am an idiot," she said to herself, wonderingly. Why had she been so convinced he would care?

"Hey...Nia?" Rex said by her side. "You doing alright?"

"Hm?"

"Well. You know." Rex rubbed the back of his head. "With that Akhos guy...saying Jin wanted to kill you and all...I was worried you might be..."

Nia summoned her strength, and let out a carefree laugh. "Oh, Rex. I don't give a damn about that," she lied.

**Note**

Hey, managed to put out a double update this week, chapter 3 is turning out to be pretty damn long, and we're still not really close to the end. If you read this, I enjoy comments, they really motivate me, and this is a really ambitious undertaking, the longest thing I've written already, so hearing from people really helps


	9. Chapter 9

**Note:**

This is a bit of an experimental chapter. I wanted to give the idea of a passage of time, as Rex and everyone stays in Garfont village for a few months, training, earning money to pay back people, and being stuck on their quest. I did this because while the game, for gameplay purposes, moves you on from Garfont fairly quickly, the relationship you have with Vandham always made it seem to me like canonically, they spent some time in his camp. So what I had was a bunch of social scenes that give some characterization and everything, and some insight on how people feel on certain issues, but the plot doesn't progress that much itself during this chapter. If that's not your cup of tea, sorry about that. But on a positive note, there's only 2, maybe 3 chapters left in the "Chapter 3" portion, and I am pretty excited about Chapter 4.

**20.**

Nia stretched out, yawning, beneath a large willow tree. Dromarch was by her side, slumbering, letting out a low, rumbling purr. Bright, warm sunlight filtered down through the tree's branches, dappling her face with shadow.

She looked around herself. She was in the middle of a large, grassy field, ringed by forest, the wind gently rippling through the grass in waves. A small pond stretched in front of her, reflecting a clear blue sky, dotted with a few gentle, white clouds. To her right, she could see...Morag? And Brighid? Standing in the field, looking off into the forest. And not that far from her, across the pond, was a small wooden cabin, smoke cheerfully rising from the chimney. And in the clearing in front of the cabin, there was Rex, practicing his sword form with Vandham.

How...had she come to be here? Nia shook her head. She couldn't quite remember. But...she felt a deep sense of satisfaction, of belonging, something she hadn't felt in so long, so drastic that it felt like a humongous weight lifted from her shoulders. She couldn't help herself as a smile spread across her face. Wherever this was...whatever was happening...she felt happy, in a deep fundamental way.

"Hello, Nia."

Nia scrambled back with a start at the voice snapping her out of her reverie, shockingly close. She looked towards its source, only to find Pyra standing a few feet away, staring down at her with a smile on her face. "Pyra…? Wha-"

"So, these are your new friends?" Pyra said, interrupting her. A sad smile played across her face, and she looked...tired, sorrowful.

Nia glanced around. Morag and Brighid were there, and now she could see Poppi and Tora off in a further corner of the field, dancing around each other, as well. As she glanced back over towards the cabin, Rex caught sight of her and waved to her, beaming, while Vandham crossed his arms and laughed. "I...I suppose they are," she said, more to herself than Pyra.

"Oh, Nia." Pyra knelt down to get on her level, face to face with the girl. Nia noted, with some surprise, that Pyra didn't look merely sorrowful. She looked...almost on the verge of tears. "I always knew you were going to be a difficult one to convince. You...have such a kind, beautiful heart. It's your affinity for healing...you can't help but care for other people. Form bonds with them." She sighed, longingly. "I wish...I had had more time to teach you how to protect that sweet heart of yours."

"Kind?" Nia laughed. "Man Pyra, what are you on about…? Last thing I am is kind-" Nia stopped, suddenly, as Pyra put a gentle hand against her face.

"Forming bonds with others...it's an inevitable part of life," Pyra said softly. "It...can't be helped. It's one of the few beautiful things about this world. But...like everything beautiful in this world, it's wound together with so much ugliness and pain. The beauty and the pain...can't be separated. If only I had been able to give you some of my wisdom...to teach you just how much all these bonds, all these strings, tying everyone together, how much pain they cause. To teach you that, as much as you can...even though you will inevitably grow close to some people...you need to struggle to keep your heart apart as much as possible." She laughed, quietly, with some despair. "You'll...fail. Everyone does. Another one of the little wonderful, awful things about this world."

Nia didn't know what to say. She wasn't quite sure what Pyra was driving at. "I don't think there's anything wrong with having friends," she replied softly.

Pyra's eyes flicked upwards, towards Rex, then back down to Nia. "Friends. Yes. But...you should know, yourself, just how these bonds can hurt. Not just you, but everyone. The Architect made a world, in his cruelty, where the deeper the bond, the more pain it will cause. And then made these bonds inevitable." Pyra looked desperate, almost, staring off into the distance, as if looking at something else, something far beyond. "Oh, Nia, if only you knew the extent of it all. The wonderful, awful, sadness and beauty of this world."

"My friends...these ones...they haven't hurt me," Nia said. She was beginning to feel nervous. Pyra seemed...something seemed wrong with her. She felt anxiety as tears began to flow from Pyra's eyes. Why, why was she so sad?

Pyra looked down at the Gormotti girl for a moment. Then she stood again, and pointed off into the distance. Nia looked toward where she was pointing.

There, in the distance, the horizon was turning black with storm clouds. The forest there was growing...dark, dead, withering away before her eyes. As she watched, the pitch black storm clouds raced across the sky, flickering with lightning, spreading with unnatural quickness. A harsh wind picked up. Nia could see now, what was killing the forest.

It was a flickering black flame.

"No matter how happy you are," Pyra said by her side, "Something will come along to turn your sanctuary against you. And everything that was beautiful will turn to poison, and hurt all the worse because you loved it."

And there, appearing from the depths of the dead and dying forest, emerging from the shadow, was Malos. He was wearing the winged, ebony helmet he had been wearing when she and Rex first met him, concealing his face entirely, and from his shoulders was draped a ragged cape that flew in the wind behind him, billowing out like terrible wings.

Behind him, now, the forest wasn't merely dying. It was collapsing in on itself, eaten by the dark flame, becoming some awful hole in reality. He sank his sword into the ground, and what it touched died, grass withering, decay spreading out from it in waves. "_REX," _he roared, and his voice was like a mountain crumbling, it was absolute, it was a command that had all the weight of the world.

And from across the field, Rex came running, running towards Malos, running towards that hole in the world, and Nia knew, with utter certainty, that he was running towards his death. And the thought twisted in her heart like a knife.

She leaped to her feet, leaving Pyra behind, running after Rex. Around her, the beautiful green field crumbled. The sky wasn't merely black with storm clouds, now. It was pitch black. Shadow was swallowing the world, as the awful hole in everything behind Malos grew, and grew, and grew. "Rex, stop," she screamed into the howling wind.

"_DUTY, REX," _called Malos, his voice seemingly coming from all around them. "_DUTY CALLS._"

Nia finally caught up to Rex, catching him by his arm. He turned around, and the look on his face tore her apart. How, she thought, how could the boy be so happy to walk to his death? "Don't go," was all she could think to say, miserably. "Don't go, please don't leave, _please don't go-"_

"I have to. It's my duty." Rex laughed, and oh, how could he laugh, how could he throw his life away so carelessly, didn't he realize how much it hurt? "It's all I'm good for. My life for the lives of others. More than a fair trade, yeah?" And how, how could he not have a trace of hesitation, how could he be so damn happy, how could death become him so beautifully, so nobly, so sweetly?

And with that, he pulled away from her. Nia struggled, tried to chase after him again, but the wind was now blowing against her too strongly, and he seemingly did not feel it at all. She watched with horror, pain coursing through her heart, as Rex walked to Malos, and without hesitation, they turned and disappeared into the hole, into the howling nothing behind them, and Nia knew it wasn't just a death, it was an awful death, Rex had died in unimaginable horror and pain when he entered the nothing, she just _knew_ somehow, he was gone forever and had been taken in the most awful of ways, and oh, the sorrow that coursed through her, like a hot knife in her heart, it was too much to bear.

"Do you see?" Nia heard Pyra's voice in her ear, though she was nowhere nearby, as the girl sank to her knees in despair. "Do you see the pain these bonds can bring…?"

Nia wasn't listening. She couldn't think, all she could do was clutch her chest, her heart hammering inside her, and scream-

Nia woke with a start, startled, sitting up in her bed, gasping for breath. She felt the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, felt it beginning to drain out of her, leaving her feeling spent, worn out. It must have been one hell of a nightmare she had, to wake her up like this. She focused, trying to remember, but already the details of the dream were slipping from her mind. Trying to recall details was like trying to grab on to fog.

She glanced out the window. She had awoken later than she usually did. She was still in a bit of a funk from Akhos having attacked, about a week ago. She found herself sleeping later than she normally did pretty often.

She got out of bed, walking on unsteady legs to the small dresser the inn room came with. Across the top of it, she had placed a few little knickknacks that she had picked up so far on their little journey. The bear carvings Morag had given her, of course, plus some of her own attempts at making them. Some different colored ribbons she had picked up at the camp for tying back her hair. And...the rainbow-light crystal Rex had given her back in Gormott.

She picked it up, now, holding it up to the light, observing the colors dancing within, and then gripped it in her hand and smiled. For some reason, just holding on to this right now made her feel better.

**21.**

Brighid stalked carefully around the Dark Aegis, her swords at the ready, moving slowly towards his side. Her feet, her dress dragged a trail of bright blue flame behind her.

Malos followed her movements with mocking eyes and an arrogant smile, not bothering to turn, simply tracking her with his head. Brighid had come to learn that those penetrating gray eyes hid a cleverness for battle that was frankly intimidating. If there was one thing Malos had a natural talent for, it was dealing death. A competent and skilled swordsman, he was also adept at unconventional tactics. His pure physical strength was immense, and then there was the matter of the dark flame he could summon.

Brighid darted forward, blades singing through the air. Malos moved with a languid, lazy grace, like a drifting shadow, dodging out of the way, sticking out one foot in an attempt to trip Brighid. She leapt nimbly over it, and spun around to cross her blades in a guard against a blow from Malos' blade from behind. Her arms shook as the blow struck, and she nearly dropped her blades. Malos had swung with both hands, putting his full strength behind the blow. Careful to keep her balance, Brighid kicked out with her right leg, catching Malos in the gut.

He hissed and winced, bowing slightly, and Brighid took the opportunity to jump back and recover. Malos glanced up at her, annoyed. If the Aegis had one weakness, it was that he lost patience when battle didn't go his way. He stretched out one clawed gauntlet to her, and clenched it. Brighid was caught in the blast as a hole of dark flame tore itself open in the air next to her, then exploded outward.

She rolled onto her back, only to see Malos bearing down on her, stalking. He slammed his sword down, and Brighid only just managed to roll out of the way as it rent the earth where she had lain only moments before. Malos growled with frustration, bringing down a plated boot on the trailing edge of her dress, preventing her from rolling further. "End of the line," he smiled, his eyes flashing dark fire and cruelty and the promise of pain, black flame crawling up his arm as he swung his sword in a wide arc, wrenching it out of the ground, rocketing it towards her face-

Brighid only just managed to duck, and with a desperate shout, slid her blades into Malos' chest. He gasped, eyes widening, stunned, black flame dripping from his eyes.

Then he stepped back, and Brighid slid her blades out of his chest. "Yeah yeah, good job," he said, rolling his eyes.

"You could at least have some grace when being bested by your opponent," Brighid snapped at him.

"I'm all grace." He gave her a mocking, flourishing bow. "Congratulations. You've won a fight against me, for once."

Brighid slid her swords home into their sheaths by her hips. They had dueled a few times in the few weeks they had been together in the camp, and it was true, Malos usually did end up winning. She looked around the training grounds. It was relatively late, past the time when the mercenaries had retired to their tents. Morag stood there, smiling at her, and it gave her heart a small thrill to have Morag see her best the Aegis. Roc was there too, clapping softly. She and the bird-blade had struck up a bit of a friendship, and he was always impressed by her use of her unusual weaponry. "I do have to say, Malos. I really was expecting more out of the Aegis. My journal, at least, implies you were much more difficult to defeat."

"Yeah. Well." Malos touched one of his gauntlets to his cross-shaped core crystal, with a soft 'tink'. "I'm a bit damaged. It will take a while for me to fix myself."

"How did you get damaged, exactly?" Morag asked, suddenly.

"In my final battle with Mythra." Malos suddenly looked pensive, as if he was staring far off into the distance. "I...don't remember much."

"What do you remember?" Morag pressed, crossing her arms. "I'm curious."

Malos shot her an irritated glare. "What? Want more details so you can accuse me of killing your Emperor from twenty generations ago again?"

Morag was quiet for a moment, staring at him steadily, saying nothing. Since coming to know the Aegis, she had begun to wonder if he could really be blamed for the death of Hugo. If he was telling the truth, he hadn't been the one to drag Hugo into the war, and Morag had come to appreciate the ironclad sense of duty the Aegis had. But she had never told him any of this. Malos...just wasn't the sort of man you talked to about this sort of thing. "No, Malos," she said finally. "I'm just curious. What do you remember?"

Malos stared at her with those intense, gray eyes, face unreadable. "I remember….the battle," he said after a moment. "I remember..." he sighed, suddenly. "I could never describe it to you. Everything we did, everything that we...unleashed, even the least of it is greater than your grandest bombs. I remember the land screaming beneath us. I remember...destroying Mythra, down to her very core. I thought I had destroyed her completely. I remember..." his hand went to his core crystal again. "I remember her light lancing through me as she fell. I remember falling myself. And...the next thing I knew, I awoke inside a sunken ship, trapped and damaged. Whatever they had hooked me up to, it was suppressing my powers, and drove me into a sort of...hibernation. And that's it." He looked up, his eyes suddenly hollow, haunted. "I...I know you said that I did a lot of damage to Torna. I can believe that. But...Mor Ardain helped in the evacuation of Torna. I remember there was time to prepare before the battle, and the Ardainian Titan was nearby, and Hugo had ordered airships to help the people of Torna evacuate if need be. But I've been reading history books. I can't find any mention of what happened to the Tornan refugees."

"There's a kingdom...very isolationist, that claims some descendants from Torna. Tantal. A lot of people don't even know it exists." Morag replied. She was somewhat surprised by the pained expression on the Aegis' face. "But Ardainian records are...spotty. There's records of a large portion of the Ardainian refugee ships and escort forces simply going missing."

"What about the other people the Emperor was traveling with? Jin, Lora, Haze? Minoth? ...Addam?"

Morag shook her head. "We recovered Brighid and Aegaeon. As for what happened to the Emperor's companions...it was a chaotic time. After the battle, they disappeared from history. I'm...sorry."

Malos was looking down at the sword in his hands somewhat forlornly. He lifted his head, and gave a small grin. "Ah, well. Shouldn't expect to find out what happened to them after five centuries, right? Guess it's just the way things are." His sword disappeared in a flash of black flame, and he put his hands behind his head, stretching out. "Well, I think I'm done with dueling for the day. Why don't we go grab something to eat?"

As they walked the winding path back to the inn, Morag examined the Aegis' face closely. Whatever sadness had been there before, he was doing a good job of concealing it. She felt herself, not for the first time, feeling a bit sorry for him. To have everyone he had once known, gone and forgotten. To fulfill his duty, and then awaken in a world where everyone he might have fought for disappeared without ever knowing where they went. Morag knew on long missions away from home, it was thoughts of friends and loved ones that bought her comfort. What could it bring Malos, except sorrow and confusion? Although, who even knew if an Aegis felt such things? But Morag was slowly beginning to suspect that he did, as much as he might try to hide it.

As they walked back to the inn, they passed by Rex and Nia walking in the opposite direction, Rex carrying a fishing pole. The two had certainly been spending a lot of time together. Malos raised a hand in greeting. Rex smiled, and waved back, but Nia frowned at him, glaring, and looked away. Morag watched as Malos sighed, lowering his hand, and considered. "She likes bear carvings," she said quietly to Malos, once Nia and Rex were out of earshot.

Malos glanced down at her and raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Nia." Morag reached into her pocket, and pulled out a small bear carving, handing it to Malos. The Aegis examined it closely. It was a carving of a bear wearing a Praetor's hat and robes with a goofy expression on its face. "She likes these. No, keep it. Maybe she'll warm up to you a bit if you give it to her."

Malos gave her an unreadable expression, then barked a harsh laugh. "Oh, I don't know about that. She's been getting awfully protective of Rex. I think as long as my power hurts him, I won't be on her list of favorite people." He looked back down at the carving in his hands. "Still. Might be worth a try. Thanks."

As Malos strolled off, Brighid appeared at her shoulder. "Honestly, why bother with him?" Morag could tell her own blade still had a distaste for Malos. The Aegis did enjoy tormenting her over her competitive nature.

Morag kept her eyes on the dark blade, watching carefully. "I think, perhaps, he's not that bad. He's...a soldier of sorts. Every soldier deserves a chance."

**22.**

"What do you say, Morag? C'mon. The top driver from Uraya, and the top driver from Mor Ardain. It would be a shame to not have a duel at least once." Vandham's eyes flashed at her as the large man grinned at the leering mercenaries encircling them.

Morag's face was grim. She and Brighid had been observing Vandham at the training grounds, as they usually had these past few weeks, directing his men, when one of the more boisterous Urayan mercenaries had loudly boasted that Vandham could best her in a fight. That had been the spark that had set off underlying tensions among the mercenaries in Vandham's camp. Vandham might say he was staying neutral, and he might accept all kinds, but the war had touched people here as well, clearly. Ardainian mercenaries shouted and shoved Urayans, clamoring over whose top driver could best the other. Morag had...hoped that Vandham would be wise enough not to inflame such tensions. But the mercenary commander had openly encouraged the competition among his men, and had been….far too enthusiastic. Morag didn't know what he was playing at. Certainly the man had to know this sort of contest would just make tensions in his camp even worse.

She cast her eyes around, beyond the leering mercenaries themselves. Rex and Nia were there, watching on with worried looks on their faces. Tora too, though he and Poppi seemed more excited to see the results of the battle than anything. Malos too, looked amused, leaning up against one of the cave walls, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at her.

She sighed, unsheathing her blades, as Brighid moved into position behind her. "Very well," she said quietly. "If you really want to have this foolish battle, I'll show you why they call me the Empire's finest."

Vandham grinned, striding forward, throwing his arms out as Roc's wicked-looking scythes appeared in his hands in a flash of light, as the mercenaries surrounding them cheered and roared. "Right. First to tag the other wins." He looked up at her, his steely gaze meeting her own. "Well, let's go."

And then Vandham dashed forward and was on her in a flash, scythes whirling in a blur, sparks flying as they clashed against Morag's swords as she parried.

Morag winced as the blows rained down on her, from all sides, Vandham probing and testing her defenses. There was precious little she could call an advantage in this battle. Vandham was nearly as fast as she was, undoubtedly much stronger, and just as clever and disciplined from long years in battle as she. And Morag could not say that she was used to fighting against the scythes he used. They curved around her parries, hooked around behind her as Vandham wielded them with incredible skill, requiring much more focus and attention to dodge and parry than a more conventional weapon might.

She might have one advantage, though. Morag dashed backwards, out of the short range of Vandham's scythes, and before the man could close the gap between them, snapped her right wrist, so that her blade broke apart into a blade-whip. She lashed out at where Vandham stood, the blade connecting with the ground with a burst of blue flame as the large Urayan dashed out of the way in the nick of time. Morag smiled grimly. She probably couldn't stand up to Vandham forever in close combat, but the whip gave her the benefit of range. She dared not engage both her blades as whips, though. The whip gave her range, but was slow and unwieldy. If both her blades were whips, all it would take was Vandham sneaking past her lashes and closing the distance, and she'd be doomed.

Vandham stalked cautiously at the edge of her range, pacing around, testing for an opening. Morag lashed out whenever he came too close, the loud snaps and clashes of her whip echoing throughout the camp. The mercenaries surrounding them were no longer so loud or boisterous. They were leaning in, every one of them silent, intent on the fight.

Vandham dashed in suddenly, ducking beneath her whip strike. Morag hissed and dashed backwards, just out of the reach of his whirling scythes. The moment she did, she knew what Vandham's plan had been. She was now too close to the cave wall to effectively wield the whip. If she tried to get a good lash, it would bounce off the wall behind her before she could direct it.

Vandham pressed his attack, and Morag poured all her concentration into now parrying him with only one of her blades. It was a monumental effort of will, but she dared not even take the time to snapping her blade-whip back into a second blade again – it might well have been the only opening Vandham needed against her.

And, well – it wasn't entirely useless at short range. She let Vandham think it was, letting her right arm dangle as she parried. Sweat poured off her from the effort as she waited for just the right moment, the right instant in Vandham's wall of flowing steel that was his scythes, just the right precise opportunity – now.

With a shout, while there was a gap between blows, Morag bought her blade-whip up in a sweeping motion, tangling with one of Vandham's scythes. His eyes widened as the scythe was caught up, and he found himself unable to swing. With another swift movement, Morag drove home with her sword, past Vandham's ruined defenses, until it stopped a fraction of an inch from his neck.

"Tag," she said, smiling.

Vandham grinned at her, sweat pouring from his face. "Why don't you look to your left? Very, very carefully and slowly."

Morag glanced to her left, not moving her head. There, a hair's breadth from her eye, was one of the wicked hooks of Vandham's scythes, having darted in during the small opening she had left in her offense.

The crowd was absolutely silent. "Well," Vandham said, eyes flashing at her. "Looks like we're pretty well matched." Then with a flash of light, his blades disappeared from his hands, and he let out a boisterous laugh. "I gotta give it to you Morag! That was one hell of a duel."

"So who won?" cried someone from the crowd.

"Nobody," said Morag, looking at Vandham with a new appreciation. "That was the point," she said quietly to herself, as the big man clapped her on the back and beamed at the crowd of mercenaries. The man hadn't been intentionally inflaming tensions between Urayans and Ardainians. He had wanted to show them that in a fight between them, nobody would win.

"Now what do you say we go grab a drink, eh?" Vandham roared at the crowd. "After all. 'First have a punch-out, then drink to forget-"

"...Once you've forgotten, the friendship's all set!" Rex called out, finishing the saying for him. "Hah! Rule six of the salvager's code!"

"Excuse me?" Vandham said, eyeing him. "That's rule eight of the _mercenary's _code, kid. Are you telling me salvagers have been cribbing from _our_ code?"

Morag watched as he led away the crowd of mercenaries, his men gathering around him, clapping him on the back, cheering at the prospect of drinks. She glanced over as Brighid stepped up to her side. "That looked….intense," he blade said. "For a man so large, you'd think he'd be a bit slower. What did you think?"

Morag looked after the retreating figure of Vandham. "I think he's the best I've ever faced," she said simply. And the next time, if things went poorly, she thought, they might have to face each other on the battlefield in earnest.

**23.**

Most nights, Malos' training with Rex consisted of dueling. But occasionally, perhaps once a week, Malos would ask the boy to meditate with him. This had been going on for about a month and a half now, and the sessions kept growing more and more intense.

Rex's feelings about these meditations were...ambiguous. He wanted to learn how to control Malos' power, he really did. But pushing himself to the edge of his tolerance for pain, so often…he had found himself dreading them, at times. He couldn't help it. And he felt like such a damn coward for fearing it. It was just a bit of pain, it was temporary, and Nia...Nia would watch, and always soothe the pain afterward. He was lucky to have met someone as good-hearted as her. But still, he had come to fear them a bit, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't ashamed of himself for it.

One warm night, as he sat down to meditate with Malos on the abandoned training grounds, he glanced over to where Nia usually sat to watch, perched on top a crate at the edge of the training grounds. She was there, of course. But Vandham stood by her side, arms crossed, watching intently. Rex...wasn't sure he wanted Vandham there. He looked up to the man, a lot, and he didn't want to see him failing, didn't want to disappoint the old mercenary with his weakness. Well, there was nothing for it then, really. He would just have to grin and bear the pain.

Vandham watched, silently, as Malos handed Rex his sword, and the boy closed his eyes. Moments later, black flame was flickering all over him. Occasionally, during the silent meditation, Rex would raise his arm, and something nearby – a rock, a bush – would vanish in a burst of dark flame. But most of the time was spent in still, perfect silence, the black flame crawling all over him.

He became aware of Nia fidgeting next to him. He glanced over at the girl. She was furrowing her brow, sighing in frustration. "You alright?" he growled at her, low, not wanting to wake Rex from his trance.

"_I'm _fine," Nia said, somewhat annoyed. She crossed her arms, wincing and looking away from Rex as the black flame crawling all over him burned higher and higher.

"Hey," Vandham said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's alright. I'm worried about him, too. It's why I'm here. Wanted to get a look at what it was Malos was doing with him."

"Burning him up. That's what he's doing. Rex, damn fool he is, goes right along with it."

Vandham raised an eyebrow. "That's the way he learns to control Malos' powers, isn't it? It's what he told me. Right?"

Nia looked up at the old mercenary with a glare, glanced at Rex, then looked back at Vandham, considering. She leaned in, conspiratorially, to get closer to Vandham's ear, speaking low. "He...pretends it doesn't hurt him as much as it does," she hissed. "But I can tell. Every time I heal him. Malos' power...isn't just a little bit of pain...cor, I can't describe it to you. I don't care if Rex says he's okay with it, he looks up to Malos so much, the stupid idiot would do anything to win his respect. You have to believe me, it-"

"Nia." Vandham interrupted her, gently. "I believe you."

"Please...don't tell him I told you this," she whispered. "He's doing it to help in the future, when he has to use the power, to make it easier on himself, but...I can't help it. I hate it. I hate it all the same."

"Nothing wrong with that," Vandham said, as he crossed his arms and watched the meditation continue. "You care about him a lot."

Nia stared up at the mercenary, then back at Rex, quietly, as if considering something.

Finally the meditation came to an end. Rex opened his eyes, gritting his teeth, and leaped nimbly to his feet. Vandham shook his head. He could tell the kid was in a lot of pain, and trying to cover it up. Malos rose up too, smoothly, quietly, as Nia went to Rex's side.

"Oh, hey, Nia," Rex said, his voice unsteady, as Nia reached out and gripped his arm. His eyes flicked to Vandham, and he gave a false grin. "I think I'm fine this time, don't need any healing, really. Really getting used to it, I think. Barely hurts at all anymore."

Nia held on to his arm, and the look she was giving him could melt rocks. "Oh, is that so," she snapped at him. "Mister tough guy, eh? Doesn't hurt at all, does it?"

"Ow. Ow, Nia, you're squeezing really hard-"

"Oh, come on now, Rex. Just a girl squeezing your arm a bit. Can't hurt that much, right? After all, all that black fire barely hurt at all, right? _You lying bastard."_

Vandham approached Malos as Rex and Nia disappeared into the night, the girl cursing the boy...quite creatively. He wondered if she was picking up some of that language from the mercs. Malos was dusting himself off from sitting on the packed dirt of the training ground. He glanced up inquisitively as the mercenary drew near.

"Malos." Vandham nodded. "So. How's the training going?"

Malos stood, stretching his back. "Good. The kid's got a real knack for it."

"Proud of him?"

Malos looked Vandham, somewhat surprised. "Yeah. I suppose you could say that."

Vandham folded his arms, cocking his head off into the night, where Nia and Rex's bickering could still be heard. "Suppose you know she really doesn't like it."

Malos barked a laugh. "Yeah. I'm aware. She can be a pain in the ass sometimes. But, well..." Malos smiled out at the darkness. "I'm kind of glad to have her around to look after the kid."

"Do you know...how bad it's hurting him?"

Malos cheerful demeanor fell, his face turning to stone. He glanced at Vandham, and there was not a trace of shame in his expression. "Yes. But everything I do to him, he asks for." And suddenly, he was glaring, face contorting with anger. "I don't hurt him because I like to, you know. It's how my power works."

Vandham held up his hands, somewhat apologetic. "Didn't mean to imply that." He considered for a moment, looking down at his hands, then glanced back up at the Aegis. "How do you...suppose Rex feels about you?"

"How he...feels?" Malos asked, somewhat puzzled. "I..." he paused, then looked away. "I have no idea," he said, somewhat evasively.

"If you didn't know," Vandham replied quietly, "He respects you. Looks up to you. Wants to impress you."

"That so." Malos said, flatly, no emotion in his voice, still not facing Vandham, instead staring off into the blank dark, arms crossed.

Vandham sighed. "Look. He may ask for everything you give him. And hell, he may be able to handle it, even. He's tough, and one hell of an extraordinary kid. But Malos, he's...young. Wants to prove himself. And he looks up to you. I'm just saying, just because he asks for something...use your own judgment, yeah? He's liable to push himself over the edge just to try to prove himself. And if he pushes himself too far with your power...well...I'm sure you know better than me what might happen. But I'm willing to wager it isn't anything good."

Malos glanced over his shoulder at Vandham. His face was hidden in shadow, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. "You're a soldier, Vandham. I assume you know the concept of duty."

"Malos-"

"You know of duty to...country, family, things like that." Malos turned his head, once more staring into the darkness. "As big as that may seem to you. Imagine if your duty was to something...larger. Imagine if you failed in your duty, it would be the end of everything." And suddenly, Malos seemed...tired. Worn down. "Imagine knowing that no matter how much you might want it to be different, literally nothing else mattered."

"What if it isn't like that?" Vandham asked quietly. "This...Mythra, you talk about...she's out there now, yeah? In fact, you don't even know how long she's been out there. But she hasn't been sinking Titans since the Aegis War."

Malos was quiet for a long time. "And so all the people who died," he said, finally, his voice thick with contempt, "All the people she murdered...all the faceless dead, entire families, cities, countries swallowed by her and her madness...they should go unanswered for?"

"That depends. Do you think revenge for ghosts is worth the life of one living boy who looks up to you and cares for you?"

Malos didn't answer. He stood, framed by the darkness, and for a moment it was as if the shadows all bent toward him, and Vandham almost imagined he could feel the blade's hatred, anger, dark as obsidian. Malos turned, and the shadows danced across him, he was black as void, a negative hole in the shape of a man. Then he shook his head, and the illusion was broken. He was merely Malos again. "Revenge is worth my life, maybe," he mused. "But...no. I wouldn't ask Rex to die to avenge my failures."

Vandham, whose hands had almost gone to his blades while the shadow danced with Malos, eyed him warily. "You mean that? You aren't going to ask Rex to die?"

"I said I wouldn't ask him to die for revenge. I can't promise there won't be a nobler cause."

Vandham felt his anger rising, staring at the dark Aegis. "You're his blade. Protecting him is supposed to be your job, not giving him a good way to die."

"I'm glad to protect him. But he knows what duty is. He swore an oath to me. There are some things worth dying for. Who am I to deny him that?" Malos shrugged, spreading his arms. "I won't abuse his oath. If that's what you're really worried about." His eyes gleamed with a quick, cruel cleverness. "Though...I don't think that's all, is it? Taking after Nia, are we? Getting a bit protective of Rex?"

Vandham's eyes widened, and he felt the anger surging in him. Age gave him the wisdom to tamp down, bite back on that anger, however. It was true, after all. The time he had spent training the boy, talking to him, watching him grow...he had quickly grown attached to him. Rex had an upbeat spirit, a flame of hope in him that was...honestly inspiring to witness. And an endless potential. With the right training, Rex could be the sort of driver the world hadn't seen for centuries. But, as protective as he wanted to be, he had to remind himself that Rex wasn't a helpless child. He was blossoming into a young man, and...the reality of the world was, plenty of other young men, not much older than Rex, were confronting the idea of death. It was up to each man to decide which things were worth dying for, and as foolish as some of their choices might be, Vandham wouldn't take that away from them. Wouldn't take that way from Rex. But still…

"It must be lonely," Vandham said suddenly. "Living the way you do."

Malos looked up at him in shock, suddenly at a loss for words. For a moment, he didn't look like the Aegis, didn't look like the shadow. For a moment, all cruelty drained out of him, and he was just a man. It passed, fleeting. His eyes became hard and clever again. But now there was no smile on his face.

"I'm the Aegis," he said simply. "It is what it is."

And with that, he walked away from Vandham, melting into the darkness, the shadow embracing him.

**24.**

Vandham glanced over his shoulder after negotiating with a band of traveling merchants to allow them to set up a stall in Garfont, only to see Poppi perched upon a crate, staring at him yet again.

Vandham wouldn't say he was exactly an expert on technology, but he had been extremely impressed by Tora's artificial blade. She was stronger than any man – probably nearly as strong as Malos himself, who had a supernatural strength. But for the past few weeks, he had noticed the little robot following him around and staring at him more and more often, her glowing orange eyes following him everywhere. When he went to train the men, she'd crouch nearby, hands on her knees, staring. When he retired to drink, there she'd be at the end of the bar, staring. It was beginning to make him a little nervous.

Later that day, he went to the inn to have an early lunch. Everyone else was still at training – he had asked Morag to take a crack at training the men today. They had come to respect her a lot since his duel with her. He thought he was alone as he sat down at a table. With a satisfied sigh, he closed his eyes, about to take a bite of his sandwich. When suddenly, from across the table, there came a loud CLUNK. Vandham froze, lowering his sandwich and opening his eyes. There, across the table, was Poppi, her elbows up on the table, head resting her hands, staring up at him with an intense, glowing gaze.

"Uh...hello Poppi," Vandham said nervously.

Poppi was silent, her gaze flicking up and down, as if examining Vandham.

Vandham laughed nervously, glancing around to see if there was anyone else nearby. Suddenly he felt a colt, metallic hand on his arm. Poppi had reached out across the table to grasp him. She looked up at him. "Oh Vandham," she said cheerfully, "Poppi thinks you are very beautiful."

"Uhhhhhhhhh," Vandham began looking around even more intently, desperate to find someone else closeby. It was no use. She had cornered him.

"Poppi has to protect Masterpon," Poppi continued. "Poppi estimates that if her appearance was more intimidating, she could protect with 87% increased efficiency through demoralization of enemies. But..." Poppi gestured down at herself. "Poppi is too cute. Poppi is, in fact, the cutest. Poppi does not understand why Masterpon did not design her with intimidation in mind. But Vandham..." here, she looked back up at the large man and sighed longingly. "Vandham very intimidating. Poppi see many tough men afraid of Vandham."

"Oh," Vandham said, relaxing. "You mean I'm scary."

"Scary. Beautiful. Yes," Poppi chirped. "Will Vandham teach Poppi the secrets of making enemies fear her? Poppi has been analyzing Vandham for some time now, but is not sure she has unlocked all the secrets of fear."

Vandham scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I don't try to be scary. But here. First step, you gotta have a mean look." He pointed to his face, contorting it into a snarl. "Like this, see. Let's see it."

Poppi narrowed her eyes and frowned. "Like this?"

Vandham shook his head. It hadn't done much. She looked angry, but was still too damn cute. "It's a start," he said hopefully. "Here. Let's go talk to your masterpon and see if he can't do something for you."

They found Tora out behind the inn, painting a large wooden plank leaning up against the wall, splattering yellow paint everywhere. His jeans were covered in yellow paint as well, and he had what looked looked like stencils of a few letters lying around. "Oh! Vandham, Poppi!" Tora called, as they approached. "Tora is just working on little side project." He flipped his goggles off his eyes, leaving yellow rings in his fur from the spattered paint.

Vandham nudged Poppi, nodding. Poppi stepped forward, putting her hands on her hips. "Masterpon, Poppi would like to be scarier! Like Vandham!"

"Eh? Scarier?" Tora scratched his head with one of his wings. "What Poppi mean?"

"Poppi..." the little robot looked over to Vandham, looking him up and down. "Poppi wants to be big and huge, like Vandham! With big, bulging muscles! This is what makes him scary!"

Vandham folded his arms and laughed while Tora bounced around in confusion. "Meh? But Tora would have to build Poppi whole new chassis. One that big require so many materials. And if Tora make Poppi so huge, Poppi not be very cute anymore."

Poppi paused, considering. "Well. Poppi not sure of the combat applications of cuteness, but Poppi does enjoy being the cutest. Is there way to be cute and scary at the same time?"

"Could ask Nia," Tora said cheerfully. "She does good job at that."

But Poppi was already looking back at Vandham, considering. "What make Vandham scary besides mean look and size," she murmured.

"Well, lots of people say they think my scars are pretty scary," Vandham offered.

Poppi snapped her fingers. "Of course! Scars indicate participation in many battles and tolerance for pain. Enemies sure to fear Poppi if she has some scars." She pointed a finger to the x-shaped scar crossing Vandham's face. "Poppi wants one like that!" She raised a hand, and suddenly a blade flicked out from one of her fingers. "Here Poppi goes!" she cried, aiming it at her face.

"Whoa whoa whoa," Vandham roared, grabbing her hand. "Not like that!"

"Poppi!" Tora cried. "Don't cut your face. You are robot, not human! All that happen if Poppi cuts her face is that Tora has to make repairs. No scars happen. Besides even if scars happen, cutting open your own face….not the way to do it!"

Poppi sighed, sulking, as the blade flicked back into her hand. "Poppi never be scary," she said mournfully.

"Now hold on, that's not true," Vandham said. He cast his eyes around, spotting a bucket of red paint. He plucked it up, along with a small brush. "Lots of men, 'specially the Gormotti ones, they like to have a little bit of warpaint. Says it makes them scarier in battle." He dabbed the paintbrush into the bucket. "Now, hold still, and close your eyes." Poppi did as she was told, leaning forward slightly, and Vandham painted a red 'X' across her face, in the shape of his scar. "Now, don't touch that, it's gotta dry a bit," he said, as Poppi opened her eyes.

"Masterpon!" Poppi whirled around, scowling at Tora. "Is Poppi scary? Will enemies shake in fear?"

Tora crossed his arms, or at least came as close to it as a nopon possible could, anyway. "Hmm. Difficult to say...we will need to run some tests, compare baseline enemy engagement rates to post-warpaint rates...control for party members….you know what masterpon say, Poppi. Measure a billion times, modify once."

"Well, I think you're looking plenty scary," Vandham said.

Poppi smiled up at him, then blinked curiously. "Vandham. How...you get that scar?"

Vandham's fingers went up to his face, to trace the x-shaped scar gently. "Ah. This one? An old...friend, gave it to me, I guess you could say." He smiled sadly at the memory.

Poppi and Tora gasped. "Friend gives you nasty scar?" Tora said, wonderingly.

"This...very sad." Poppi looked down, embarrassed. "Poppi...sorry."

Vandham put his hands on his hips and barked a laugh. "Hah! Don't worry about it. I haven't thought about them in years. Past is what it is. Besides, they did give me this scar that makes me much scarier, right? It all worked out in the end. C'mon, Poppi. Let's go test out this warpaint on some of the mercs. I bet we can get a few of them shaking in their boots."

**25.**

Nia came into the inn late one night, long after everyone still in the camp had gone to sleep. Rex and Vandham had taken off yesterday to go check on Gramps, still stuck back at the cove where they had crashed. With Vandham's knowledge of Uraya's byzantine cave system, the trip was much shorter than the week-long trek they had originally made to Garfont village, though they would still probably be gone a couple of days. Nia had gone with them on previous trips, but wanted to stay behind this time. She had a little project she was working on with Tora, and wanted to be able to surprise Rex with it.

She had been out in the fields surrounding the village, laying on her back, staring up at the faintly glowing fungus on the cavern walls, her mind filled with thoughts of Jin, Pyra, and Torna. Knowing that Jin had wanted her dead still tore her up inside. But...over these past couple of months, she had become...happier, for lack of a better word, with her current situation. She had come to realize that she had new friends. Morag worried for her, she knew, and while that annoyed her to some extent, it felt nice to know that someone cared for her like that. Tora and Poppi looked up to her. And Rex...Rex was fun to tease, and...he could always make her smile.

The only problem was her secret. Torna had known she was a Flesh Eater. Her new friends didn't. And she had seen enough friendly faces turn ugly with hatred and contempt, once they had discovered who she was. And…

_And that's not your only secret, _the voice inside her said. _They think you're a good person. You know you aren't. You can't keep up this charade forever._

Nia shook her head as she walked into the inn. She glanced around the foyer, and then her eyes opened in surprise. It was empty, but there, on a coffee table, was a small bear carving. She rushed over. It was a goofy-looking bear wearing a Praetor's hat and looking confused, clearly meant to poke fun at Indol. "Oh ho ho, this is _perfect," _she said to herself, appreciating the craftsmanship. "Whose-"

"Hello, Nia."

Nia yelped and jumped backwards as Malos walked forward from the shadows cloaking the foyer, smirking at her. She could have sworn the room was empty. It was just like the damn Aegis, to scare the daylights out of her. He raised an eyebrow at her, then glanced at the bear carving. "I see you've found..._my _bear carving."

"This is yours?" she said, still angry. "Where'd you get it?" She crossed her arms. "Why aren't you out with Rex?"

"I'm his blade, not his mother. He can take a trip without me. You like these things?" Malos picked up the carving, toying with it idly. "Want to play for it?"

"No than-" Nia stopped as she saw Malos pull out a board game from a nearby shelf. "Wait. Is that Sneak-Thief King?"

Malos glanced down at her. "Yeah. It's my favorite. You ever played it?"

"Have I played it? It's my favorite, too." Nia bit her lip. Malos...she still had a lot of anger for him, for the way he treated Rex. And a lot of fear, for the cruelty in his face, the darkness in his eyes, and the way he had seen right through her, spotted her secret right away. He was the one person in her new group of friends that kept her from feeling at home. But...she did really want that carving. And Sneak-Thief King was her favorite, and she was damn good at it. "Fine. I'll play you for it. And what if I lose?"

"If you lose?" Malos' eyes widened, as if he hadn't really considered that. "Hm." And then a smile spread across his face. "If you lose, I get to come along with you and Rex when you guys go get your dinner from your little bet. And you have to buy me whatever I want."

Nia blanched. She had been looking forward to that dinner, and didn't want Malos coming along. If she was being honest with herself, she didn't want anyone coming along. She had...sort of been excited about spending some time alone with Rex. But she was _really good_ at Sneak-Thief King, and she was pretty sure she could beat Malos. "Fine," she snapped, snatching the board game from him. "But I get to play thieves. And we play Gormotti rules."

She opened the board on the coffee table as Malos took a seat across from her, and expertly set up the board. Sneak-Thief King was a board game for two players. One player was 'Thieves' and the other was 'Guards', and the board had a stylized castle drawn onto it. 'Thieves' had only five tokens, representing the 'Thief' team, including the 'Sneak-Thief King'. Each member of the thief team had different abilities, and they were played face-down, so that Malos didn't know which thief was which – though he could figure it out over the course of play when Nia used their abilities. Malos, on his side, had control of the guards, represented by many, many more tokens than thieves, and the guards were played face-up. There were different guard tokens, which countered different members of the team, and the challenge for the defender was to get the right guard in the right place to corner the right sneak-thief. The goal for the Thief team was to move the Sneak-Thief King into the throne room, where he, and only he, could steal the crown from the King, and the goal for the guard team was to imprison all the thieves. Thieves could break out of prison, but after being caught three times, they were "executed" and removed from the game. The game ended if the Sneak-Thief King himself was killed, or if the crown was stolen.

They began their game in silence, and Nia quickly had to admit it sure seemed like Malos knew what he was doing. He made quick, smart moves. She sighed as her first thief was put into prison.

"So," Malos said, as she considered her options during her turn, "You've been spending a lot of time with Rex."

"Don't try to distract me!" She leaned forward and made her move, tokens clacking against the board. "Yeah? So what?"

Malos shrugged. "Hey. He's my driver. Normal for me to keep an eye on the people's he's getting close to."

"He's a friendly guy. Gets close to everyone."

Malos rolled his eyes, and with a sweep of his hand, sent another of Nia's thieves to prison. "Come on now. He clearly gets on more with you."

Nia fidgeted in her seat, her ears flat against her head as she glared up at Malos. Then she sighed. "Yeah. Well, he's the only other person my age around the camp, everyone else is some weird old mercenary. I-"

Malos gave a dry laugh, waving his hand dismissively. "Fine, if you want to be like that."

Silence fell between them for the next few turns, the only sound being the clack of tokens against the board as they made their moves.

"I don't enjoy hurting him, you know," Malos said suddenly. Nia looked up at the Aegis. His face was fixed intently on the board. "I don't do it because I don't care, and if I could share my power without hurting him, I would. And he's the one who draws upon it, who wants to learn how to use it."

Nia knew this. She knew it was Rex who was calling upon the power. And she had some anger in her heart for him for that, it was true. Rex...scared her, in some ways, with how far he was willing to push himself. But it was also true that she had pushed a lot of her anger on the situation onto Malos. She had….not had the best first impression of him. She had assumed that he viewed Rex as little more than a tool. But watching them train, seeing Malos carefully test Rex's limits...she had come to realize this wasn't really the case. Malos wanted Rex to be effective, he wasn't just idly burning him up to be discarded. And...she had seen the concern in Malos' face, sometimes, after they had finished training. Maybe he just wanted Rex to be as useful a tool as possible. But...maybe, in his own way...he did care.

But still. It was hard to get over her inherent disgust for his power. And he was still holding her secret over her head. But perhaps he wasn't the devil she had first thought he was. Though she knew, someone didn't have to be a devil to hurt you more than anything in the world. "Yeah, well. You do it all the same. But if it can't be helped, it can't be helped." She made a move.

"Whoa whoa. Hold on. What's this bullshit," Malos snapped, looking at the board.

She gave him a sly smile. "I told you, Gormotti rules."

"This isn't any Gormotti rule I ever heard of. You can't just teleport-"

"Yes you can. That's Gormotti rules. Don't you touch it! It's a legal move!"

"What kind of crap have the Gormotti added to this game the past five centuries? I'm getting the rulebook-"

They bickered over the rules for the next few hours. Lucky for Nia, the rulebook that came with the game actually did have a description of Gormotti rules, so Malos grumpily conceded the moves to her. His competitive spirit kicked in, and so did hers, and they taunted each other over the moves they were making, and Nia eventually found herself laughing and enjoying herself. Malos was a smart opponent, and that cruelty that she had feared in him for a long time now...she could see now how much of it was sarcasm and a sharp tongue. They battled back and forth, the outcome of the game seeming to swing one way and then another.

But eventually, Malos cornered her sneak-thief King, and with a flourish, delivered the final blow. "I win," he smirked. "Get out of here with that Gormotti rule nonsense. Hah!"

Nia sat back in her chair, sullen, angry with herself. "Yeah, yeah. Guess I owe you a dinner, then," she huffed. She couldn't believe she had lost. Now he was going to come along with Rex and her to dinner.

"Don't worry about it," Malos said, rising from his chair. "Loser cleans up the board, though."

"Huh?" Nia said, looking up at him. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. I won't insist on coming along. You kids just have fun on your date," he said, giving her a teasing smile.

"It's just some bloody dinner!" Nia snapped at him. "That's all. Sheesh." But she felt a real sense of relief wash through her.

Malos rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah. Sure." He waggled the bear carving at her. "You actually want this, though, you're going to have to win it from me legit. Goodnight, Nia."

Nia's eyes tracked the Aegis as he wandered off to his room, swallowed by the shadow. She sighed, and began putting away the board game. "Goodnight, Malos," she said softly to herself.

**26.**

Rex panted, sweat pouring from him, as he stepped back from the training grounds for a moment. He had been training with Vandham for months now, and he could tell himself that he had really improved in his swordsmanship. He could duel adequately with mercenaries much older than himself now, and even beat them a good portion of the time. Vandham kept telling him that he had great potential. He tried not to let it go to his head, but it was hard not to smile at how proud the big mercenary was of him. Still, Vandham was better than him by a long shot. He was still nowhere close to landing a blow on the big man himself.

He glanced over at the village as he gulped down some water. He spotted Nia, approaching him with a malicious twinkle in her eye. What was she up to, he wondered?

She walked up to him, her ears flicking excitedly. She hummed to herself happily, swaying her hips in a little dance, and she held in her hands a crown deftly woven from bunches of flowers, white, blue and pale pink. "Oh, hello, Rex," she said, her voice dripping false sweetness, as she stood on her toes and placed the crown on his head. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "Yeah, looks good on you."

"Alright." Rex folded his arms. "So what do these flowers mean?"

"Ohhhhh, why don't you tell me," Nia said, laughing, handing him the flower guidebook.

Rex sighed as he plucked the flower crown from his head and leafed through the book. "Alright...so...this one means….'loser'." He glanced up at her, rolling his eyes. "Oh, cute, thanks. And...this one….also means 'loser'...and….so does….this one….they all mean 'loser', don't they?"

"Yeah! That's why it suits you so well!" she grinned, putting the crown back on the top of his head. "Because guess what, Rex? _I win!"_

"Wh-you sold one of your carvings? No way! They still look like nonsense!" Rex snapped, shoving the book back at her. "I don't believe it. I call shenanigans!"

"Oh, poor naive Rex." She grabbed his hand, grinning viciously at him. "Come with me."

She dragged him, laughing, over towards the area of the village where merchants typically set up stands. A crowd of roughly a dozen mercenaries stood crowded around one particular stand. As they drew closer, Rex could see a large, bright yellow sign, decorated with a crude painting of a cat face and a nopon face, and bold purple lettering, that read "Nia's Astounding Abstract Art! Sponsored by Tora." Poppi danced in front of the stand, handing out fliers, while Tora sat behind the counter, bouncing happily. Lined up on the top of the counter were a few of Nia's grotesque carvings. Tora was in the midst of negotiating a price with the latest customer.

A few of the mercenaries that had already paid for a carving stood around, holding them up to the light, examining them. "Oh yes, very interesting," one of them said, nodding sagely. "I love how it changes, amorphous, depending on how you look at it."

"Depending on what angle you view it from, it looks completely different, and never quite solid, never quite clear what it actually is," replied another mercenary. "It's a commentary on the impermanence of identity, on how the same person can look the same depending on who is doing the looking." The crowd of mercenaries surrounding him nodded and muttered in agreement.

"Tora, what is all this nonsense?!" Rex cried, as Nia dragged him up to the front of the stand and stood beaming victoriously at him, arms crossed.

Tora ignored him. "Oh! Hello Nia. Business going very good today, yes. Here is Nia's cut." He handed Nia a large bag of gold while Rex stood by, gaping.

Nia held the bag up to her ear and shook it, smiling at the clinking sound of coin withing. "Ahh, now that's a lovely sound. Don't you think?"

Tora turned to Rex, grinning. "Nia approach Tora with business proposition. Said she would supply Tora with works of art and Tora could take half the profit from selling. Tora skeptical at first. Nia's carvings, ah...unusual. But nothing a little nopon marketing cannot fix!"

Rex threw his hands up, as a mercenary purchased the last carving on the table, handing over a jaw-dropping amount of coin for it. "But this...I can't believe it."

"Oh I dunno, Rex. This seems pretty real," Nia said, hefting up the bag of coin. She opened it, tilting it slowly onto the table. "Hey. Check it out. Oh-oh man. Wow, look at all that gold. Oh...Oh…wow, it just doesn't end, does it? Hey, do you think you ever made this much from a salvage? Wow, it's not even half-empty yet-"

Rex stopped Nia's taunting, jabbing a finger at her. "Hey. You haven't won yet. Our original agreement was that you'd sell a carving of a bear, not a carving of…. 'abstract art', or whatever that is," he snapped, gesturing around.

"A bear?" said one of the mercenaries standing around, and Rex slapped a hand to his face in frustration. "Oh...yes, I think I can see a bear, if I turn it just right...a commentary, perhaps, on the eternal savagery of nature?"

"That's the beauty of abstract art, Rex," Nia laughed. Rex glared at her. She was enjoying this way too much. But, well...it was nice to see her so happy. She had been a bit depressed ever since Akhos had attacked them. She had denied that it had meant anything to her, but Rex could tell sometimes, when he looked at her, seeing the distant sadness in her eyes. Now, though, she was laughing, smiling, a slight blush in her cheeks. She was awfully pretty when she laughed, even if she was taunting him. "It can be whatever you want it to be. I got the idea from you, after all! You ready to concede?"

"Fine. Fine, you win. I'll buy you something from the inn-"

"Ohhhhh no you don't. I said from a restaurant, remember? And it's going to be a fancy one too." She laughed delightedly, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Don't you worry. I'll let you know when I find a place suitably expensive."

Rex winced. "Fine," he muttered. "Fine!"

"Now say, 'Nia destroyed me via the medium of bear carvings.'"

"Oh, you are such a graceful winner, aren't you. Really know how to accept victory with humility." Rex crossed his arms and glared at her. But then a smile slowly crept across his face. "It's a date, then."

He had expected her to respond to his teasing with anger. But instead she just smiled mischievously at him, grabbing his hands, staring up at him with twinkling eyes. "Oh, I'm looking forward to it," she replied softly.

She laughed as he jumped backwards, suddenly embarrassed. The boy was really too much fun to mess with. "W-well, I should get back to training," he said, rubbing the back of his head, averting his eyes. He rushed back to the training grounds, and Nia smiled. He still had her flower crown on, forgetting it was there. She sat down on the stand, kicking her legs happily, humming to herself.

Poppi stood by her side. She had watched the whole exchange with curious eyes, unfamiliar with these strange human conventions. All she knew was that Nia seemed as happy as she had ever seen her. "Nia...is going on a date with Rex?" she asked curiously.

Nia glanced over at her, laughing. "Oh, it's not really a date. I was just teasing him."

"But...Rex said it was a date."

"Oh, that was just him trying to tease me. I got his number, though."

Poppi was quiet, considering this for a moment. "Poppi has unresolvable logical errors," she said presently. "Poppi can't tell how this is not a date."

"Hey, don't overthink it, yeah?" Nia said, patting the robot's shoulder. "You'll cross a wire or something." She got up, stretching. "I gotta go ask Vandham where we might find a good place to eat."

Poppi watched the Gormotti girl walk off, still humming happily to herself. "Masterpon," she asked, "Are all human relationships this strange?"

"No, Poppi. Is just Rex-Rex and Nia." Tora rolled his eyes, counting out his coin. "Please do not alter internal variables on their count. They are outliers." He laughed to himself. "Maybe mostly Nia."

Thank you for reading, please comment if you can, comments are motivation!


	10. Chapter 10

**27.**

It had been a peaceful few months at Garfont village since they had arrived. Rex had found himself immensely enjoying the mercenary life. Vandham had paid them much like anyone else who may have been on his payroll, and he had long since earned enough money to pay back Turuni, having sent off his payment by courier a month back.

Rex had often thought of being a mercenary as a sort of amoral, violent profession. And, he supposed, for many it probably was. The mercenaries Bana hired to keep watch over Goldmouth hadn't seemed like the most pleasant bunch. But Vandham's group seemed...different. He saw how being a mercenary afforded Vandham the opportunity to refuse missions that he didn't agree with. On more than one occasion, Vandham had sent contractors packing from the village when they requested services that he found questionable. It wasn't, Rex supposed, that much different from being a salvager. They both performed dangerous, possibly deadly jobs. They both had people, governments, who might want them to perform deeds they might disagree with. Vandham saw that there was a need for violence and rough men sometimes, but he refused to let his group be directed in ways he found unethical.

And the other mercenaries...Rex had found them a bit intimidating at first. Who wouldn't have? They were a group of extremely seasoned, competent warriors, loud, aggressive...but in Vandham's camp, there was always a sense of camaraderie and good cheer. It made sense, Rex supposed. They knew their lives depended on each other.

And his time here was time well-spent. The training he got, at the hands of Vandham, Malos, even Morag on occasion...they were probably, all things considered, some of the best mentors he could have possibly asked for. Two legendary drivers of their respective nations, and the Aegis himself. He found himself improving in leaps and bounds, and after a few months, being more than capable of dueling and defeating many of the more seasoned mercenaries in the camp. The older drivers...they'd often comment that he was one of the best students they ever had, that he had boundless potential. But he thought it was probably just a product of his youth and his teachers. Sure, the older mercenaries might have more experience in battle, but who among them could say that they had teachers such as he had?

In all honesty, if he hadn't been on a mission, Rex thought he probably could have lived the rest of his life happily, as a mercenary. But, as things were...he found himself getting a bit antsy after a few months. Making some money, and getting some training, these things were good things to have on his way to Elysium. But he found himself having more and more of an urge to move on, over the past week. He could tell Malos was getting a bit antsy, too. The Aegis had denied it - "I've waited five centuries, what's a few months more?" he'd say – but Rex knew that at night he pored over books, not just trying to patch together the past, but trying to find some way to make it past the beast at the base of the world tree, trying to find some clue on how to proceed.

Vandham seemed to detect their growing impatience himself. One night, they were all relaxing after a hearty dinner, basking in the warm glow of Uraya's gentle nights. Rex had just finished another hard day of training. Malos, Morag and Brighid had returned only a few hours ago from a mission, exterminating some of the more aggressive Volffs harassing some nearby gromrice farmers. Nia was concentrating intently on a carving she was working on, leaning back up against Dromarch's side in the grass, squinting one eye as she shaved off pieces of wood from a fairly large block. Tora had Poppi's chest panel completely open as she stood cheerfully still, tinkering around inside of her. It was...always still a little disquieting to Rex when he saw Tora go rooting around in her guts.

Vandham let out a satisfied sigh, picking his teeth with a toothpick, propping up his massive boots on a nearby chair as he leaned back, relaxed. "So," he said, casually, "I think I might have a lead on how to get you lot to the World Tree."

Rex glanced at Malos, whose eyebrows rose. Apparently the Aegis hadn't heard about this yet. "Yeah? What is it?" he asked excitedly.

Vandham pulled out a small blade – well, it was small in his massive hands, in reality it was fairly impressive dagger – and began trimming his nails with it. "Got an old friend, name of Cole. Old mercenary buddy. Got...ah, let's say, quite the past." He glanced up at Malos, then flicked his gaze back down to his nails. "Think he might be able to give you a way forward. Or at least, point you in the right direction."

"Why didn't you tell us about this friend of yours before?" Malos asked.

Vandham shrugged. "He's sort of an...artsy type nowadays. Bit too old for mercenary work now, you know? He runs a troupe, performs plays, operas, that sort of thing. He was…." here, he glanced up at Morag. "...on tour, let's say, in Mor Ardain. Said he wanted to do what he could to convince people to stop the war. I told him, Cole, I don't know what a play is going to do to stop a war. But he says art can talk to people, and, well, who knows, maybe he's right. Just got back to Fonsa Myma a few days ago."

Morag was quiet for a moment. She had been away from Mor Ardain for quite some time. This was nothing unusual – her mission was to track the Aegis, and it had been understood that it might take her into territory where communication was difficult for extended periods of time. She had been out of contact for longer periods than this – and most likely, Ardainian spies in Uraya already had some idea of her location. Nobody in Vandham's camp had explicitly approached her, but she would be surprised if the Ardainian spy network didn't have at least one mole in his camp. But she had found herself restless, lately, as well. She had been...experiencing an increasing sense of dread. It was nothing that she'd ever express to anyone. But...she had found herself wanting to talk to her brother, to go back to her homeland, to do...what she could to try and stop the war. She found herself kept awake, later and later at night, with a sense of foreboding about her homeland that just wouldn't cease. "Did he...have any luck?" she asked, quietly.

Vandham gave her a meaningful look, and Morag thought she saw a deep sadness in his eyes beneath that hard gaze. "You may want to take a trip back home, when you can," he growled, steadily, voice betraying no emotion. "Cole says...well. He can tell you himself. I don't have his way with words. But...he's not optimistic, to put it lightly."

There was silence for a long moment. "Well, sounds good to me," Malos said, finally. "We can take a trip up to Fonsa Myma and talk to this friend of yours."

"Fonsa Myma," Rex said to himself, quietly. He had heard of the Urayan capital, and had wanted to visit it, though he hadn't been near it during his time in Garfont. "It's a bit of a hike, isn't it?"

"Well, that's the other thing," Vandham said, grinning suddenly. "I would have told you sooner, but I had a couple of my boys working on, well, a little...development, let's say." He glanced around at the night around him. "It's a bit late to show you right now. But let's say that the hike to Fonsa Myma might be a bit shorter than you expect. We can take off tomorrow morning, you'll see then, yeah?"

Rex found it difficult to sleep that night. The prospect of getting back on the road again, of getting back on track to their mission to Elysium, was too exciting. He was up before anyone else, even Vandham himself, who usually woke notoriously early, walking out to the training grounds with his claymore, practicing his stances.

Or at least, he thought he was up before anyone else. He had only been practicing for a few minutes when Nia strolled up, chewing on a pastry thoughtfully. She sat on a fence, watching him for a few moments as he practiced. "Gotta admit, you've gotten pretty good at that," she said. "What're you doing up so early?"

Rex grinned sheepishly. "Ah...couldn't sleep. Getting going on our way to Elysium got me too excited."

Nia laughed, leaning back against the fence and kicking her feet. "Seems a little sad though, don't you think? I've really gotten used to this place. It's...nice, here. Even full of mercenaries, it's nice. And we're leaving so early, we're not even going to get a proper chance to say goodbye."

"Yeah...suppose so. I mean, we could always come back in the future. But it has been nice here. I've gotten kind of used to it, I think. If it weren't for Elysium, think I could see myself settling down into this sort of work."

"Oh? Being a mercenary your whole life?"

"Hah! Well, maybe not my whole life. Plus I think I'd still want to salvage as a hobby. But...you know, it's nice. Helping people who need it. Vandham has a pretty nice little setup here. Plus, the coin isn't bad at all. More than enough to support a family and all that."

"Oh?" Nia gave Rex a small, wicked smile, flashing her fangs at him. "You want a family some day, eh?"

Rex found himself blushing. "I mean...well, yeah, someday, you know. Not any time soon or anything." He slid his claymore into the sheathe slung across his back. "I mean, not like I've given it loads of thought or anything. Wouldn't you, though? Want a family some day, that is."

Nia looked a bit surprised at the question. "I...don't suppose I've ever really thought about it," she said softly, and Rex thought he detected some sadness in her voice. "Seems a bit strange though, doesn't it? Honestly, I can't wrap my head around it most of the time."

"I get what you mean." Rex rummaged through his backpack, pulling out an apple, biting into it noisily. He leaned back next to Nia, watching the dawn light slowly grow more rosy as it filtered down through Uraya's hide. "I mean, I just sort of think it will be something that happens eventually some day. Don't have any idea how it will happen to myself. But it happens to most people, right?"

"I suppose. I….I don't know if I'd ever really do it, though. I dunno. I like being...independent and all that. And…" Nia paused, looking at Rex, still chewing thoughtfully on his apple, eyes on the horizon. Her thoughts were of her sister, her father, how much it had hurt to lose them. Loving someone as much as she had loved them...the idea frightened her, honestly. She never wanted to feel the way she had after she had lost them, ever again. She hadn't ever told Rex about her sister, though. She hadn't really ever told…almost anyone at all. But...well…she could probably tell Rex, couldn't she? She usually kept her past as a well-guarded secret...but for some reason, she not only felt comfortable telling him, she sort of...wanted him to know. "Hey Rex," she began, quietly, "Y'know….I had a sis-"

"HEY YOU TWO!"

Nia yelped, jumping up off the fence, at the booming sound of Vandham's voice. The big goon was waving to them from across the village, bounding toward them with Roc at his side. "You have to be so damn loud?" she snapped at him as he grew near.

Vandham laughed. "Sorry. Using my command voice, I suppose. You two are up early, aren't you? Let's get some supplies packed up for this trip."

It was nearly an hour later that the entire group was assembled in front of one of the gates to Garfont village, before the sun had properly risen. Only a few other mercenaries were straggling about the village.

Morag and Brighid were both quite a sight. Vandham had approached them the night before about disguises. Of course, having the right hand of the Emperor in Fonsa Myma itself might be a pretty risky business. Just going about without an Ardainian uniform probably wasn't going to be enough for Morag. So she had tied her hair up in a bun, hidden it beneath a safari hat, borrowed some baggy fatigues from Vandham...and done a pretty good job at passing for a man.

"Wow, Morag, can barely tell it's you," Malos remarked, looking her up and down. "Really do fit well into a man's disguise."

"Wait, what? Disguise?" Tora peered up at Morag. "Tora thought Morag was always a man. Human gender divergence so strange."

"Lady Morag is plenty feminine," Brighid snapped irritably at Morag's side. She was dressed in the same bulky vest and soldier's outfit and helmet that Vandham had dressed her in before to disguise her. Only this time, he had gone the extra mile, and draped an additional poncho over all this, so that only her face peeked out from beneath a dust-colored hood.

"We all ready?" Vandham interrupted, looking over the group. "Alright, let's get going. Just a little bit of a hike to Fonsa Myma, right?" He grinned suspiciously at Rex, who gave him a quizzical look. What was the big man planning? What was the surprise he had talked about last night?

Vandham led them once more into the complex cave system of Uraya, leading them, after a few turns, in a direction they hadn't headed before. Narrow, winding tunnels slowly gave way into wider and wider caverns, all covered in vibrant blue-green grass, threaded with streams of crystal-clear water. Even after living here for a few months, Uraya still could surprise Rex with how idyllic and picturesque it could be.

Eventually, Vandham led them out into an enormous cavern, bigger than any they had been in so far, with a view so stunning that even Malos let out an appreciative whistle. They were at the top of a cliff path that looked out onto a vast expanse of crystalline blue waters, with exotic, alien structures of colorful mineral buildup spreading outward from a few geysers, surreal, colorful blotches on the landscape. Beneath the waters, they could spot, even from this distance, intricate, beautiful coral structures, and gigantic, colorful fish swimming among them. A forest of trees, with waving purple and pink leaves, ringed the waters. Even the cliffs themselves were beautiful, striped with some colorful mineral, and the whole scene was awash in a gentle, purplish glow. Vandham stopped them with a hand, puffing out his chest, taking a deep breath. "Ahhhhh. Been a while since I've traveled out this way. Beautiful, yeah? Gets to me every time." He lifted a hand to his brow, shading his eyes against the light, then pointed out into the distance. "And there you go. There's your surprise."

Rex looked where the mercenary was pointing, squinting his eyes. Vandham's vision was unusually sharp, it took him a moment to see what the man was pointing at. But there, off in the distance, a circling shadow, soaring high above the purple forests, was a familiar figure…

"Gramps?" Rex called excitedly, rushing forward.

The large Titan circled above the forest once more, then with a mighty flap of his wings, changed direction, heading towards the cliff where Rex stood. He folded his wings against himself, picking up speed, startlingly fast for a creature his size, until, with a blast of wind, blowing grass and loose soil around himself, he landed perhaps forty feet from them, his massive bulk making the ground beneath their feet shake with the force of his landing. "Ah, it feels good to stretch my wings," he said, shaking his head side to side. "Cooped up in that cove for far too long."

Rex spat dirt and grass from his mouth as he walked forward. "Geez, Gramps," he said, but he was smiling from ear to ear. "How did you get over here?"

"Well. I was thinking that I would probably just have to fly back to Leftheria at some point. But I found, after flying around the cove for a bit, a tunnel big enough for me to fit into, up higher in the cliff wall. I thought it was a dead end for quite some time, of course."

"I sent some men to try to map it out and see if there wasn't some way to get your Gramps through the tunnel. Took some explosives and some exploring, but we found a way to get him here." Vandham folded his arms, laughing. "He complained all the way here, of course."

"Excuse me. I'd eaten nothing but sea drakes for months, and had to squeeze myself in through a tunnel with not enough room for me to stretch out my wings. Took me days of crawling to do that. I was getting cramped. You'd complain too." Gramps glared down at the mercenary.

"Aw man, Vandham, you didn't have to do all that for us," Rex said, embarrassed.

"Oh, I didn't do it just for you. That new tunnel opening up is gonna be a nice new logistics and trade route, I think." Vandham patted Gramps' claw. "Anyway, I was thinking you could fly us over to Fonsa Myma and save us a lot of hiking. Though once we get close, you might wanna just set us down and let us walk the rest of the way. With the war on, government's getting a little, ah...aggressive about recruiting Titans into the war effort."

"Oh, I see how it is. I get free, and you immediately want to use me as a taxi service," Gramps said airily. Then he gave a sharp grin. "Of course. I'm enjoying giving my wings a workout anyway."

**28.**

Jin walked through the dark halls of the Marsanes, breathing raggedly.

He had just returned from a mission intercepting a shipment of core crystals from Indol to Mor Ardain. He had been going on more and more of these missions lately, barely stopping to take a rest in between. It was just that...with a war fast approaching, he couldn't stand the thought of blades becoming a part of it. Of being awoken, only to be thrust into violence a few months after they had begun to live. Of getting tangled in the web of people's lives, only to have everything ripped from them shortly after.

And he didn't like to admit it...but either Indol had been training its warriors better, or it was becoming harder and harder for him to use his powers. He found himself having to push closer and closer to the edge on every mission.

He stopped in front of a familiar door, bracing himself before he entered. He both longed for and dreaded entering this room. It was something he couldn't stop himself from doing, no matter how hard he tried.

He walked in to the room. It was large, circular, dimly lit. And in the center was that which haunted him, which was never very far from his mind.

Lora. Her body frozen, perfectly preserved, within a large block of never-melting ice, created by Jin himself. Her long brown ponytail flying out behind her, looking as if it was still whipping in the wind, armor and clothes of a fashion that was by now centuries extinct. Eyes gently closed, mouth turned up in the smallest hint of a smile, looking for all the world as if she was still alive. One had to look close, very close indeed, to see the wounds that had driven the precious life from her body.

And like it did every single time he looked at her, Jin's heart broke all over again. It still stunned him how the pain had never dulled over the centuries. Looking at her was like having his heart torn apart the exact same way it had the day she died, hundreds of years ago. When she had spoken those damned final words to him, when he thought he would go mad from the ache.

He had had his anger at her, over the centuries. Why, why had those had to be her final words? Bittersweet whispers of love and pain at losing him, pain at the idea of being forgotten by him, that had twisted in his heart like a knife. And then, oh, that beautiful smile on her face, that faint happiness, when he had told her that it didn't have to be like this, that he could remember her forever, by becoming a Flesh Eater. There were times where he had felt rage at her, over the centuries. She had damned him with those last words of love.

But he couldn't remain angry. Jin sometimes wondered if humans could ever really understand the sorts of feelings their blades could have for them. Lora...was _everything _to him. Protecting her had been his every thought. And through their bond, Jin could feel the love she had had for him, and feeling that had made him...complete. It was the best, most fulfilling feeling in the world, when she had looked at him with those sparkling eyes, and he had known how much she adored him. And after losing her, after knowing he was going to have to live on, and on, and on, never feeling anything like that ever again…

Jin laid a hand against the ice, hanging his head. It was always like this. It never, ever went away. Time never healed the wounds. Every thought of her, was like reopening them every time. Every time he looked at her, it was like losing her all over again. But how could he ever do anything other than think of her, forever?

"I thought you might be here." It was Pyra's voice, quiet.

Jin glanced up, his eyes wide. The Aegis stood in a doorway, her face wearing a pained expression. She glanced up at Lora in the block of ice, and then walked into the room slowly. "Go away," Jin said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, then turned his face away from her, hanging it again, looking down at the ground. "Leave me be."

Pyra ignored him. Presently, her arms snaked around him from behind, pulling him into an embrace. He could feel her resting her head against his back. He didn't protest. She was...comforting.

It was strange to think that the Aegis...Mythra, the woman that Pyra had once been, who was still...locked inside her, somehow...strange to think that this woman who had once wreaked such havoc, had tried to destroy the world, might be the one to comfort him, when once, he and Lora had fought so hard against her, struggled so hard to bring her down. When Mythra...Pyra...had been one half of the disaster that had sank Torna to the bottom of the cloud sea.

But Pyra had found him during his wanderings, when for years, decades after losing Lora, he had crossed the world. Those years...as much as seeing Lora pained him now...those years had been a nightmare of unending, constant sadness. Where everything, everything he had ever felt was a constant, blurry haze. The world, for years and years on end, had seemed flat, unreal, he had felt almost incapable of even interacting with it, and through his mind ran constant scenarios of hellish guilt – he was constantly thinking of how he had failed Lora, and thinking of the life they may have had together if only she hadn't died, and everything was a dark, long tunnel of soul-shattering remorse, and regret, and grief for what could have been and now would never be.

And then Pyra had found him, and lifted him out of it. When she had first found Jin, when Jin first realized she was the Aegis, that blond, angelic Mythra was now the redheaded Pyra, he was certain that she was going to kill him. But instead, the first thing she had done was embrace him, and whisper, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," in his ear, over and over.

And then...she had cared for him. For years. For years, it was her smiling face that had greeted him in the morning, trying to rouse him from his depressed stupor. She had made him meals, cooking dish after dish, until she had perfected one to his tastes so well that even in his lowest state, he could not resist eating it. She had held him at night, simply holding him, when in the darkness his thoughts raced and sleep eluded him. Through monumental efforts of kindness, more than anyone had ever shown him, she had rescued him.

At the time, he hadn't thought to question why. To be honest, at first, he hadn't thought...much at all, so catatonic with grief had he been. But along the way, during the years she had nursed him back to health, that she had...made him engage with reality, once more, he had learned. Learned of what she had experienced, deep in the Cloud Sea, after Malos had struck her down. Learned that...yes, she was, indeed, honestly repentant for what she had done, and fully understood the magnitude of her crimes, and lived with a horrible, wracking guilt that would never go away.

She was lost in confusion about the nature of the world, and living with the awful weight of regret and remorse and guilt, and yet she was presenting a strong face. She hadn't given up, and she was trying her damndest to repent. And...it had inspired Jin. Her kindness, and her strength, had slowly lifted him out of his funk.

And once he had gotten somewhat better, they had spent so much time talking. And Pyra's words...they held a lot of wisdom. They spoke to Jin's heart. The bonds you could have – bonds between blade and human, but not just bonds like that, all bonds...friendship, love, family...they were the most beautiful things in the world. And, as Jin knew full well, also the most awful. Love, of all kinds, was inevitable, and beautiful, and could absolutely destroy you. Worse than destroy. It could torture.

Jin had never questioned this before. It had seemed...simply part of the way the world was. But after losing Lora...was all the pain of losing her, was all the awful torture of living without her, was this much pain really necessary? Pyra had caused him to question this. Was it really the nature of the world, or was it a...sadistic choice, on the part of Pyra's father, the Architect?

Jin didn't know. And Pyra was the first to admit, herself, that she didn't know, either. Jin had always seen the Architect as something...untouchable, unknowable, ineffable, the reasons behind his design...almost certain to have a good reason. But...Pyra...Mythra was his daughter. And Malos his son. And...if the Architect's daughter herself could doubt his design…could suspect his cruelty and malice…

He loved Pyra. For all she had done for him, for all that she had made him question, for the...sweetness and kindness she had shown. How could he not? Like Pyra said, these bonds were inevitable. He wasn't quite sure in what way he loved her, but she had saved him. But as inevitable as they were...one could keep oneself...distant, to minimize the pain from them. They both knew, a bond of love might invigorate them, but could also destroy them. So as much as he might love her, he would struggle and resist surrendering to it. He suspected...that she loved him as well, and struggled to maintain her distance herself.

But that was hard when she was wrapped around him, embracing him. Jin slowly, quietly disengaged himself from her embrace. Pyra's hand lingered on his, as she stared up at him. "You're pushing yourself far too hard," she whispered, laying a hand against his face.

He grabbed her hand, then simply held it. He stared down at her for a long moment. There were so many things he might say, so much he could say to her. "I'm fine," he said, suppressing anything he might feel. "Is there any news on Malos?"

Akhos had reported in months ago that the Aegis, Nia, and Rex were in a mercenary camp. Jin had considered raiding it, until he had found out who the leader was. The legendary driver Vandham. He and Pyra had actually gone up against Vandham before, when his group had been hired to guard a shipment of core crystals. Vandham and his men….had given them an _astounding _amount of trouble. It had been a long, bloody battle across a massive Urayan warship. Jin had never thought that a mere human driver could give the Aegis and himself as much trouble as Vandham had. In the end, most of Vandham's men had wound up dead, and Vandham himself had fled in an emergency escape craft, but through careful ambushes and clever traps, Jin had wound up needing weeks in the restoration chamber. There wasn't enough room to pilot the Marsanes or the Monoceros into Vandham's camp, and...as much as it galled him to admit, he wasn't sure if they could win against an entire small army of men trained by Vandham.

And so they had resolved to wait. To wait, with increasing frustration, as they stayed within the camp for months. One of the downsides of having so few members in Torna was that they didn't have the time to spare to wait for an opportunistic time to ambush them when they were away from the camp. They had simply told Akhos to check in on them from time to time, and to give them an alert when they decided to move on from the camp.

Pyra sighed. "They've moved on, finally. To Fonsa Myma."

Jin nodded. "Good. It's a long march to Fonsa Myma. We can intercept them on the way-"

Pyra shook her head. "You don't understand. They're already at Fonsa Myma. They were still in the camp this morning, when Akhos checked the locations on the core tracker. Then tonight, they were at the capital."

"How," Jin murmured to himself. Then his eyes lit up with realization. Azurda. The draconic Titan, according to Akhos' last reports, had still been trapped inside the cove of Uraya's mouth. He must have found a way into the Titan somehow, and flown Rex and his party to Fonsa Myma. Akhos had asked if he should take the opportunity to kill Azurda, but...the younger Flesh Eater probably didn't know what he was talking of. Jin had seen Azurda in battle before. The Titan might speak like a gentle old man, but in all likelihood, if Akhos had tried, Azurda would have probably eaten him alive. And besides...Jin wasn't about to kill an old friend over a misunderstanding. Still, it was a damn frustration. Fonsa Myma in wartime was hardly a more appealing target than Vandham's mercenary camp. "There may be a way to lure them to the forum," Jin said thoughtfully. While it may have more soldiers, in many ways Fonsa Myma might provide more opportunities than a small, disciplined mercenary camp.

"I can go with Akhos," Pyra was murmuring, holding Jin's hand. "I'm sure between the both of us, we can handle capturing Malos-"

"I'm going with you," Jin replied.

"No. You have pushed yourself much too hard lately. Look at you, you're exhausted. You get in the restoration chamber-"

"I'm going with you," Jin repeated firmly, and Pyra became quiet. "Bring around the Monoceros. We're going to Fonsa Myma as soon as possible. This farce has gone on long enough. Rex awakening Malos was never supposed to be anything more than a temporary accident, and I'm coming along just so we can be sure it gets fixed."

Pyra lingered on for a long moment, looking up at Jin. "Did you tell Akhos to kill Nia?" she asked, suddenly, quietly.

Jin's eyes widened in surprise. Then his face became stern, emotionless. "No. I told him to only do what he thought was necessary to retrieve Malos."

"Oh, Jin," Pyra said, mournfully, shaking her head. "Oh, she adored you."

Jin stopped for a moment. He...had known Nia had looked up to him quite a bit, after he had rescued her. And though he had only known her for a short time after that...he had...felt the beginnings of the same affection he had for other members of Torna, with her. He had liked her sarcasm, her sharp tongue, the way she didn't let the other members of Torna intimidate her.

But...she was a traitor. There was no way around it, at this point. Whatever might have been, what could have been with her….it was long gone now. Which was...well...it could be more of a problem in the long run than perhaps even Pyra realized. Flesh Eaters gained new powers upon their merging with a human, sometimes. Jin had. And he could sense, in Nia, a restorative power that she held in reserve, one so great that it could bring people back from the verge of death...could possibly have even healed him, given enough time to cultivate.

Oh well. There was little time to mourn, now. Not now that things were hurtling toward the end.

**29.**

The flight on Gramps' back was a stunning one, watching the beautiful vistas of Uraya slide beneath them, a blur of gentle blues, purples and greens. Uraya was almost as idyllic as the vision of Elysium Rex had seen. The people here, he reflected, were very fortunate to live on such a bountiful and beautiful Titan. And so huge: This internal cavern, Vandham told him, was the largest in Uraya, but it was absolutely gargantuan. Rex had never been to Mor Ardain, but he knew from descriptions of it that it was sandy, dusty, with little capability to grow crops. He could see why, if Uraya was so gorgeous and plentiful, and so large, they might be tempted to try and conquer it.

And as they drew closer to Fonsa Myma, Rex could see, even from a distance, that the city itself was beautiful as well. The Urayan capital, from a distance, was a somewhat chaotic warren of brick buildings, with round, meandering streets, built into a cliffside. Red, pink and purple-leafed trees were speckled throughout the city, competing with some rounded, domed towers for the highest points in the city. The city was built leveled, stepped into the cliffside, with a few large, more square buildings that Vandham identified as the castle and barracks of Uraya's government. Even from a distance, Fonsa Myma gave off a friendly glow, every building lit with a soft, orange light in the windows, a few tendrils of smoke rising from some rooftops. As they grew closer, they could see the city was surrounded by gromrice fields, growing in some naturally-formed terraces. The entrance to the city had a docks, as well, with some large, Titan warships occupying them.

Gramps set them down maybe a mile's walk from the city, on the advice of Vandham, in an area concealed by large, mineral-rich rocks, streaks of flashing metallic ore glinting in the sun as he settled them down.

"Thanks, Gramps," Rex shouted, as the party leapt down from his back. "Man, we really gotta build some chairs and straps or something on you if you're gonna fly us places, though. Pretty enough, but it's not exactly fun hanging on to your back for dear life."

"Oh, typical. I give you a free ride and you've got nothing but complaints."

"Not complaints! Just suggestions!"

Gramps agreed to meet them nightly at a location somewhat outside of the city, away from the prying eyes of any Urayan guards. Although, Rex supposed, he had probably been spotted flying around already by someone or other. Vandham insisted he should probably be safe, as long as he stayed way from the city itself, where his presence might cause a commotion and get people trying to recruit him into the Urayan military.

A large, wide, cobblestoned path led up to the gates of the city, and it wasn't long before they were passing beneath the walls of Fonsa Myma. Despite it being wartime, the city itself was fairly open. A few guards manned the walls and guardhouses entering the city, Urayan soldiers and hired mercenaries in the bulky, powerful armor of the Urayan government, but none of them gave any of them any particular scrutiny. Morag took this as somewhat of a good sign. If Uraya was concerned that Mor Ardain was certain to invade Uraya itself soon, they'd most likely have many more guards stationed on the walls, and much stricter security. Uraya may not be a military state like Mor Ardain, but they were hardly incompetent.

As they continued walking, they began passing by the gromrice fields that surrounded the city proper. Curiously, Rex noticed, many of them were barren, with no workers harvesting, and no plants growing. He remarked upon this to Vandham, who nodded grimly. "While back, there was some damn loony who single-handedly poisoned most of this year's harvest." Vandham shook his head. "He was a loony, but a damn smart one. Managed his way past our guards and everything. Some think Mor Ardain was helping him on that one."

"No," Morag said, suddenly defensive. "No. The Emperor is trying to extract food concessions from Uraya to avoid war. Last thing he'd do is order the destruction of your crops."

Vandham put his hands up. "I know, I know. I keep my eye on this sort of thing. In the end, it was some loony that they tracked down to Indol. The Praetorium extradited him and everything. But, well. It's one thing that's real, and a whole other thing what the people actually believe is real, right? Mor Ardain may have had nothing to do with it, but most people think they did." He sighed. "And maybe in this situation, that's what really matters."

After walking through the fields for another hour or so, they finally reached the city proper, walking by the docks with the Titan warships lodged there. Rex and Tora marveled at the sheer scale of the ships. Urayan warships were quite a bit different from Ardainian ones. Where Ardainian ships were often integrated into the Titans themselves, wires and controllers connecting directly to the Titan nervous system, Urayan ships often had their structures, armor and weaponry built directly on top of massive, trained Titans, never bothering to cut them open and make any direct connections to their nervous system, instead preferring their traditional method of training and controlling such large creatures.

The streets of Fonsa Myma itself had seemed welcoming and humble from the air, but as they continued deeper into the city, it was impossible to miss an undercurrent of foreboding and fear. The wide, winding cobblestone streets were full of Urayan soldiers and mercenaries. The ring of blacksmith's hammers were constant in the streets, hammering out armor and weaponry for the war effort. An entire stretch of the city was taken over by workshops, rough, soot-covered men shaping metal for Urayan warships, the baking heat of dozens of furnaces turning the street into an oven. Many of the shop's offerings were rather threadbare, Urayans having bought up many emergency supplies in anticipation of an invasion.

And the Urayans themselves...Morag had to admit to herself, they reminded her of home. Ardainians were a people who lived constantly on the edge, never sure when their Titan might sink into the ocean, never sure when they might be called upon to die in one of Mor Ardain's many wars. So when they had time to themselves, they celebrated with abandon, with a glibness and lightheartedness about death. And the Urayans themselves, here, now unsure about when they might be invaded...they did not waste time on fear. They sang and drank and lived, not oblivious to their possible doom, but rather facing it with a cavalier attitude and good cheer, living while they could. It reminded Morag very, very much of the atmosphere in Ardainian taverns when she would visit those.

As they walked through the city, Vandham got friendly greetings from a few of the citizens. It seemed he was fairly popular in the Urayan capital, as well. But he would also get a few nasty glares, a few bitter shakes of the head. "People angry I haven't joined up with the Queen's army yet," Vandham shrugged. "Urayans have a long history of mercenary activity. They usually admire that sort of independence. But...well, with the way the war's been going, they expect me to sign on up with the Queen. Lots of folks don't like that I haven't yet."

Vandham led them to a cozy-looking inn, a building of grayish-green brick with a blue-tiled roof, snuggled in amongst many others. Buildings in Fonsa Myma had a sort of charm to them – they were all built out of the same material, but each one had its own little personalizations, a tower here, an alcove there, a porch there. Each building felt like its own little home, but still part of a large shared community of like-minded, friendly buildings, all rubbing shoulders with each other. Folmarie inn, was the name of the place, run by a somewhat large, matronly Urayan named Dellin, her hair done up in a gray, chaotic bun. She greeted Vandham with a warm smile as they rented their rooms, and the comfortable smell of fresh-baking bread wafted from the inn's kitchen.

They didn't linger long at the inn – only long enough to drop off their packs and supplies in their rooms – before Vandham rounded them up again and led them deeper into the city. They climbed gentle steps as the city slowly rose around them into the cliffside in which it was built. It was one of the higher levels of the city to which Vandham led them, the last bastion of cozy, comfortable buildings before the city gave way to the more grand, harsh angles of the castle and barracks and other government buildings. There, there was a large, yet still cozy-looking building, carved into the side of the cliffs itself, worn and smooth sandstone, its entrance wide, grand, inviting, colorful posters and paintings plastered along the entrance walls, a riot of color and faded faces. It dominated the small cobblestone plaza it was located in, and was surrounded by potted plant life and gorgeous purple-leafed trees, leaves stirring gently in the now-dimming light of the day.

"Mymoma playhouse," Vandham said approvingly, hands on his hips. "Gotta say, it's been a while since I went and saw one of Cole's plays."

"Are you a fan of the theatre, Vandham? I didn't really peg you as the type," Morag said.

Vandham shrugged, smiling. "Well, Cole's my friend, y'know. And everyone's got a bit of an artsy side to them. Just because I'm a mercenary doesn't mean I can't be cultured, right? 'Sides, not like I was always a mercenary."

The group approached the playhouse. They had only just entered the lobby, carpeted in thick purple and gold, when a tiny voice called out "Vandham!" and the big mercenary was attacked by a small blur. It was a girl, certainly no older than twelve at the most, with light, whitish-gray hair woven through with bright flowers, wearing a white dress that billowed around her as Vandham snatched her up and twirled her around, her laughing in delight.

"Iona!" he bellowed, setting her down. "It's been too long since I got to see you. You're getting so big! How's your grandpa?"

At this, Iona's face immediately fell. "He's...sick," she said. "He shouldn't have gone to Mor Ardain. He needs to rest."

"Ah, that bad, eh," Vandham said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Well, don't worry about it too much. Your grandpa is a tough old goat. Can we go see him? I bought some friends along with me to talk to him."

Iona put her hands behind her back, suddenly shy, seeing the group of people following Vandham. She looked with wide, shocked eyes at Malos, and Poppi, in particular. "He's….putting on a show right now," she said quietly, timidly. "Maybe you could talk to him after…?"

"A show? Ah, perfect!" Vandham turned to the rest of the group, throwing his arms wide. "What do you guys say, wanna take a look at one of Cole's plays?"

Iona smiled, beaming at them, and led them through the playhouse, which extended far into the cliffside and descended down. It was naturally cool, comfortable in here. They slowly filtered into a small theater, lined with stools, the stage covered by a beautiful translucent, purple curtain, threaded through with curving gold designs, through which light filtered through.

As they took their seats in the front row, the curtains rose.

The play was about the Aegis war, long centuries past. It was...a little hard for Rex to follow. Whoever this Cole guy was, he certainly liked...abstract set pieces and loads of poetic imagery. What he took from it, though, was interesting. He could surmise that what had kicked it all off, so long ago, was that someone – represented by a man wearing a white mask with a small black dot in the center – had climbed the World Tree, and bought back two Core Crystals. He had awoken one of them, and that had been Mythra – or as the play called her, 'The Angel of Death', played by a woman wearing shockingly little clothing, but who always had bright, glaring lights shining upon her whenever she was on stage, so that you could never see her form. According to the play, she was there to punish the sinners of the world, and had begun wreaking havoc, death and destruction. In response to this, a group was formed to stop her:

A boy, represented on stage by a man wearing a mask of clockwork gears and a black iron crown. "Hugo," Rex heard Morag whisper.

His two blades: The witch of blue flame, represented by a woman wearing a dress of many translucent, blue silk layers, some of which were constantly waving in the air. "I suppose that's me," Brighid said softly. "But witch, really, was that necessary?"

And the Obsidian Golem, played by a statue that was wheeled around, carved of black stone, never speaking at all. Rex didn't quite get it, but it made Morag and Brighid laugh. "Oh, poor Aegaeon. But he really doesn't talk much, does he?" Brighid whispered to Morag.

Next was a woman called Lora, who the play mournfully called 'the brightest of us all'. Unlike most of the others, her costume was not so abstract – she was played by a simple brown-haired girl with a sweet smile. Her two blades were the Iced Devil, played by a man covered in a sheer white sheet, tattered, ragged, with horns poking out the top of it, and a character Rex wasn't sure was supposed to be her blade or her sister for most of it, the Lady of the Winds, who, as well, did not have much of an abstract costume, and was instead played by a character that looked very similar to the actress who played Lora. Hair perhaps a little darker, but still very similar. Lora was tied, at all times, to her blades by two long, red threads.

And then there was Addam, legendary wielder of the Aegis, represented by a man wearing a mask of a shining golden sun, the rest of his body covered completely in a cloak patterned after the night sky. The Dark Aegis – Malos, Rex supposed – was played by a man in a costume of pitch-black cloth, covered in so many layers of it that he was completely indistinct, looking more than anything like a hole on stage than an actual actor.

All these strange characters went on some sort of journey, though Rex couldn't tell much of what was happening during it, to be honest. But it ended with a confrontation between Malos and Mythra that was visually impressive, at least: More and more lights shone on Mythra's character, flooding one half of the stage with light, while on the other side the lights dimmed darker and darker, and sheets of black silk flowed across the stage, looking as if Malos was unfolding, devouring, and the accompanying instrumental section rose to a crescendo, and -

And then it was over. The play left it ambiguous who had won. Which seemed, to Rex, a bit silly. After all, the world was still here. People knew who won in the end, right?

Afterwards, Iona appeared to guide them toward's Cole's room. Nia glanced up at Malos, who seemed a bit lost in thought, as they made their way there. "Must've been a little strange, seeing yourself up on stage, right?"

Rex, who was walking next to them, glanced up. "Oh yeah. I almost forgot, that play was basically about you."

Malos paused a moment, as if still lost in thought, and then barked a laugh. "Hah! Not like I could tell what the hell was going on with all that anyway."

"You sure?" Rex didn't like to pry into the Aegis' business. After all, it seemed like barely anything ever really upset him. But sometimes, he did wonder. "You seemed a little...puzzled."

"Oh no, it's fine. It's just...that play...seemed awfully familiar to me. Someone I...used to know, loved this sort of thing."

Iona led them down a long hallway, past rooms filled with stage props and dressing rooms, down to the end of the hallway where they crowded into the playwright's room. Various posters and promotional materials lined the walls, and the room was haphazardly strewn with reams of silk, masks, and costumes, and pages and pages of chaotic notes. Cole himself was leaned over a desk crammed into the corner of the room, scribbling notes furiously on a piece of paper. He glanced up as they entered. He was an old, somewhat frail-looking man. Not yet gone completely gray, but definitely with the majority of his youth behind him. And something about him looked a little...off, a little deformed, though it was hard to put your finger on it. He had a red beard, and sad, tired, but sharp eyes. "Hello, Vandham," he said, as the mercenary walked into the room. "I presume this is-"

"Wait. Wait." Malos pushed his way to the front of the group upon hearing the voice, and then laughed, with surprising delight, upon seeing Cole. "I _knew _it! It is you, Minoth!"

Cole sighed, calmly putting his quill down, folding his arms, and leaning back to stare at Malos. "I..._cannot_ believe this. I go through…all the trouble of choosing a new name after the Aegis War. I think to myself….even if this is Malos, surely, _surely_ he will pick up on the context clues that maybe, _maybe_ these new people in my life don't know about my past, and maybe that I prefer it that way. _Surely even he_ has this most slightest of social graces and common sense. _How wrong I was._"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Malos said, waving a hand dismissively. He eyed Cole...Minoth, Rex supposed…up and down. "Man. You really look like shit. The hell happened to you?"

Minoth stared at him in shock, and then broke out into laughter that turned into a wracking cough. "I suppose...it's good to know...after five hundred years, you haven't changed," he wheezed, as Iona ran to his side. "It's good to see you too, you complete bastard."

Everyone stared as the two men laughed hysterically, in utter confusion. "Cole," Vandham said slowly, "What the hell is going on here? Hey, old man, stop laughing yourself to death and speak! What's the Aegis doing, calling you 'Minoth'?"

Minoth waved his hands, as he gasped, slowly recovering from his laughing and coughing fit. "Iona, dear," he said to the young girl fretting at his side, "Would you mind making your grandpa and his friends some tea?"

Iona, who didn't seem to care in the slightest what name people called her 'grandpa' by, nodded, then glared at Malos. "Don't go making him laugh too hard again!" she snapped, her voice trembling. Then she dashed from the room.

Cole sighed, scanning over the group in front of him. "Well, what the hell, might as well show you," he sighed finally, and pulled his shirt down, revealing the top of his chest. There, embedded in an ugly scar in his skin, was a core crystal. Cole...Minoth...was a blade. But not just any blade. His core crystal was splotched red, in addition to the normal blue.

Rex heard Nia gasp, shocked, and Morag and Brighid murmured to themselves. "What's that? What's wrong with your core crystal?"

"He's a Flesh Eater." Malos' eyes flicked over to Nia, then back to Rex. "Blades merged with humans through...well, I suppose there are a few ways to do it."

"I was….an experimental version, let's say," Cole said, gesturing down to himself. "People though that merging humans and blades might give the blades special powers. And I suppose that in some cases they're right. But I never got any special powers. I just lost the immortality that blades are supposed to have." He shrugged, cavalierly. "Such is life, I suppose. I can't complain. I still had a longer life than any human properly could have ever asked for."

"Sheesh, old man." Vandham crossed his arms disapprovingly. "I can't believe you hid that from me all the time I knew ya. I gotta say, I'm a little hurt. What...should I call you now? Cole, Minoth? Hell, I don't even know your real name."

"Cole...is just fine. Minoth is a name I forgot long ago. A name I'd prefer to keep forgotten."

"Is that why you kept yourself out of your own play?" Malos asked, leaning back up against a wall. Then his eyes lit up. "Do you know what happened to...everyone else? I know….Hugo died. But..."

"I don't know what happened to Addam." Suddenly, Cole was quiet, sad. "I...do know what happened to Lora, Jin, and Haze, though."

"I assume that Mythra got a hold of Jin's core crystal somehow. Did you know she's resonated with him and is using him? It seems sick-"

"No, Malos, you don't get it," Cole replied quietly. "After the war...Lora died, and Jin used her body to become a Flesh Eater. That Jin you've seen with her is the same Jin you knew centuries ago."

Malos froze, almost shuddering, as if he had been struck by a heavy blow. The twinkling mischievousness in his eyes went out. In its place was just shock, shock and a flash of sadness. "I...why…? Why would..." he steeled himself, pausing for a moment. "How did...Lora die?"

"I don't know. It was shortly after your final battle with Mythra, though. It was...the last time I ever spoke to him. He...seemed half-mad with grief. I tried getting him to come with me, but he just sat there, not responding to anything I said. I gave up after a while, and never really saw him again. Though...I did hear of him, and his little Torna operation."

He burst into another coughing fit as Iona entered the room with the tea. She nearly spilled it, rushing to his side, pouring him a cup and pushing it into his hands. She didn't bother to pour any for anyone else, fretting too closely over Cole. "Grandpa, you need to rest," she begged him. "You're not well enough to be staying up all night chatting."

"Yes, yes, dear." Cole glanced up at Malos. "We can...catch-up some other time, if we have the chance. Vandham tells me your driver wants to make it to Elysium."

"That's right!" Rex said, stepping forward.

Cole's eyes widened, and he looked back up at Malos. "This...is your driver? But he's so young. There was no one else…?"

Malos, still in shock, merely shook his head, staring down at the floor. "No one else," he murmured.

"Hey. I am getting pretty sick of people pointing out how young I am," Rex snapped irritably. "If we're going to do this thing, isn't it better to send someone young like me, than an old geezer like you?"

Cole laughed, quietly. "Well, Vandham. I can see the kid has picked up some of your social grace during his time in your company." He fixed Rex with a steady gaze. "You saw the play, right? You know there was someone else who climbed the World Tree. That's how the whole damn thing began in the first place. The Aegis War, that is."

"Right."

Cole turned to his desk, sliding open a drawer. "Well," he said, as he rummaged through its messy, disorganized contents, "The man who did that, was actually my driver. Praetor Amalthus, leader of Indol. Now I don't know how to get past the beast that guards the tree. But I would bet that if anyone may have any idea, it would be him."

Malos glanced up suddenly, directing a hard gaze towards Cole. "You're going to send us to Amalthus for help?"

Cole sighed as he continued rummaging through his drawers. "I...know I haven't been fond of Amalthus in the past. I'm still not. But...well. Maybe it's my old age. Maybe it's the fact that I still technically have a bond to him. But...I left him, at a pretty dark point in his life. All those centuries ago. Maybe if I hadn't, maybe if I had been a listening ear...maybe he wouldn't have felt the need to climb the Tree in the first place. Maybe this whole thing could have been avoided. Ah, here it is." Cole finally pulled out a long, decorated dagger, with a strange barrel-like mechanism in the hilt. He held it out to Rex, who grasped it, but did not let it go. "This, is my old weapon," he said to the boy, quietly. "Used to use it when I fought side by side with Amalthus. If anyone in the world has an idea of how to get to the World Tree, it will be him. But let me warn you. I don't think there's a mortal in this world more clever or ambitious than Amalthus. He has a very dim view of the world, and it can be difficult to tell what his intentions are. All of this makes him dangerous. When you talk to him, always keep that in mind. No matter how safe you feel, _Amalthus is a very dangerous man._"

With that, Cole let go of the dagger, releasing it into Rex's grip, and then collapsed into a coughing fit, struggling for breath. Iona growled, then stamped her feet. "That's it. You're going to bed, grandpa. No arguments," she snapped. She wheeled around, glaring at the group. "No arguments! Everyone out! He needs his rest!"

**30.**

The group slowly filtered out of the playhouse, into the cool night air of Fonsa Myma. Early night had fallen now, the city still aglow with the dim, gentle light of fluorescent fungus and the dancing, merry fires in people's homes flickering through the windows. Vandham suggested staying for a couple of days in Fonsa Myma, to meet with Cole when he had time and he was healthy.

As they all strolled slowly back to the inn, Nia fell into step alongside Rex, bumping his shoulder. "Hey," she said, smiling, snapping Rex out of his reverie, staring at the blade Cole had given him. "Guess what? Fonsa Myma has a nice, fancy seafood restaurant. Very expensive." 

"Ohhhh, is that so," Rex replied, tucking the blade away. "You're saying you want to have your dinner there? When?" 

"Why not right now?" 

Rex shrugged, considering. "Yeah. I could do that, I'm pretty hungry. Wanna see if any of the others want to come-"

But Nia was already grabbing his hand, waving to the rest of the group, which had walked a bit ahead of them. "Hey guys, Rex and I are going to go grab dinner, meet you back at the inn!" she said hurriedly, pulling him along, dashing away before anyone could react or say anything.

She led him on a winding path throughout Fonsa Myma. Rex was sort of impressed at her sense of direction. He quickly became lost, but it seemed like Nia had no problem navigating her way through the winding streets of an unfamiliar city to find her way back to a restaurant she had spotted earlier. It wasn't long before they stood before a small brick building, with large, brightly-lit windows, called 'Ikthus Fine Dining'. The delicious smell of well-prepared seafood dishes wafted out of the restaurant into the street, reminding Rex of just how hungry he was. He glanced at a menu, pinned to the window, and his eyes widened. "Boy, you weren't joking, this place really is expensive," he muttered.

"Oi, no backing out now," Nia replied. Rex glanced over at her. She was about as excited as he had ever seen her, rocking back and forth on her heels as she looked over the menu.

But...well, Rex glanced down at himself, dressed in ragged, old Salvager's gear, and back at her, dressed in her well-worn jumpsuit and armored, spiked boots. "We ah….might not meet the dress code for this place," he said.

"Oh...oh damn, I didn't even think of that," Nia said, eyes widening. She peered in through the window. "I can't see how people are dressed in there...there anyone in there at all…?"

Suddenly, a fat, jolly-looking Urayan burst out of the doors of the restaurant, widening his eyes at them. "Customers?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, well, we were just wondering if we had the….proper attire," Rex began, when the Urayan grabbed them both by the hands and yanked them inside.

"Don't worry about that, my boy! I'm glad to have anyone in. With the war on, nobody's spending money on fine dining. Don't you worry about the dress code, that's for snobs anyway. Don't tell the Queen I said that. Now I warn you, we're low on Gromrice for our side dishes, shortages and all, but we still catch our fish fresh every day, so don't you worry, don't you worry, let old Merve take care of you and show you the best dining experience you'll ever have!"

Still babbling, the Urayan – Merve, so he said – hustled them indoors, seating them at a table for two in a secluded corner of the restaurant. With frantic energy, he poured them water and had menus dropped in their laps within seconds. He lit a small candle in the center of the table, and insisted that they tell him anything, anything they could possibly want.

"Well," Nia said, almost out of breath, as she looked over the menu, "He sure seemed...enthusiastic."

"I'm not complaining. I'm paying this much, I'm just glad I'm getting this sort of service."

They looked over their menus, Rex settling on a dish of sea-drake steak with mushroom sauce. His eyes widened as Nia ordered dish, after dish, after dish, as the waiter, with increasingly arched eyebrows, continued scribbling them down. "Boy, Nia, you really are taking me to the cleaners with this one, aren't you," Rex muttered, after the waiter had finally left.

"Hey, I told you, I'm ordering enough to feed me for a week. I warned you when we made this bet, no complaining!"

Rex leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "Yeah, yeah. So. What did you think of that play?"

"Little bizarre, wasn't it? I mean the costumes and everything were neat. It was...kinda weird, seeing someone play Jin."

Rex's eyes widened. "Oh, right. I didn't even think. So Jin would have been that….Lora character's blade, right?"

Nia nodded. "I...heard him mention Lora, once or twice, but never really asked him about her. Honestly, I didn't have much of an idea who she was. Didn't know she was someone from so long ago, from the Aegis War. Truth be told, I had no idea Jin was in the Aegis War either. I...guess I didn't really know all that much about him."

"And...he's a Flesh Eater, too, just like Cole," Rex said thoughtfully, not noticing Nia's eyes widening. "A combination of human and blade. I mean...calling them 'Flesh Eaters' sure makes them sound scary. Cole doesn't seem too bad, though. But still, I wonder what it takes to turn a blade into a Flesh Eater."

"Yeah," Nia said, quietly, fiddling with an edge of the tablecloth.

"I mean I guess I can see the temptation. It seems...awfully sad that blades forget their drivers once their drivers die. I wonder why that is. I mean you hear stuff about blades falling in love with their drivers all the time, that sort of thing. Imagine dying, and knowing that you'll be completely forgotten by the one person you care about the most. That they'll go on living and never even know your name." Rex stared out the window into the night time streets of Fonsa Myma, looking at his own reflection in the glass thoughtfully. "I wonder why the Architect made things that way."

"Maybe it's better than the alternative," Nia said softly.

Rex glanced at her. "Eh?"

"Rex….w-….uh, I mean, blades, they have...a really deep connection to their drivers." She shook her head, looking up at him. "I guess you don't really know, you've got Malos as your blade, and he's different. But like you said, you hear about blades falling love with their drivers, marrying them...even if it's not like that, the connection is really deep. Now imagine if blades didn't die along with their drivers, if they kept their memories of their drivers. How much it would hurt them to never be able to see their drivers again." Nia seemed...mournful, sad, all of a sudden. "Maybe it's better for them if they forget. Living with just the memory of someone you love...it's a terrible burden. Blades aren't meant...to live long without a driver."

"Hm. Maybe you're right."

Their food arrived shortly, the waiter having to pull over an extra table just to fit all of Nia's dishes on them. Rex watched, astounded, as Nia wolfed down her food, quickly going through one dish and starting on her second before he had even finished a third of his dish. She was so tiny, how could she eat so much? "Titan's beard, where are you putting it all?" he cried, putting down his fork, as she tucked into her third dish.

"Huh?" She glared up at him, mouth full, then swallowed. "Hey, I was hungry. I haven't eaten since morning!" She flicked a piece of torn-up napkin at him. "Mind your own beeswax, eh?"

They sat back, satisfied, after finishing their meal. Nia had eaten her way through three whole dishes, and taken a few bites out of the fourth. "Man, I gotta say, Urayan seafood is a whole lot different than Leftherian seafood. Or even Argentum seafood," Rex said, patting his stomach. "Way more filling."

"That's one of the perks of traveling," Nia said, picking her teeth with a small toothpick. "You get to try all sorts of different food. I've had Gormotti and Urayan seafood, now."

"Hey, what about Argentum seafood? Remember that claw I cooked you?"

Nia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay, but that doesn't really count-"

"Oh, it so does. Why doesn't it count? It's seafood, made and caught in Goldmouth. Why wouldn't that count?" 

"You didn't add any spices or anything! It's not like it was some...traditional dish, it was just something you whipped up-"

"That's how food's made! That's how dishes get popular! All the salvagers eat stuff like that. How much more of 'traditional dish' can you get if everyone eats it? You just think it doesn't count because it didn't come from a restaurant. Oh, you are such a snob."

"Hey, I didn't say I didn't like it. Alright, alright, it counts. I've had Gormotti, Urayan, and...Salvager seafood. You happy?"

They chatted and bickered playfully with each other as the night wore on. Suddenly, Nia's ears perked up. The restaurant had a small in-house fiddle band, and they had begun playing a slow, sweet tune. "Oh, I love this song," Nia said. "It's an old Gormotti tune, hardly anyone can play it right."

"You gonna dance to it?" Rex said, giving her a smirk.

"Oi. What's that expression for?" 

"Oh, nothing. Just I've seen you, ah, do those...little dances you do in fights sometimes. You seem like the dancing sort of girl."

Nia's eyes widened, and she blushed. "Those are commands to Dromarch. He's...supposed to read my movements and know what to do. It gets loud in combat sometimes! You do a dance, and everyone knows what to do. Oh, shut up."

"No, no, they're...extremely cute," Rex laughed. "Just never saw anyone do a dance like that before. Nothing wrong with dancing."

"At least I _can _dance." Nia leapt to her feet, pulling Rex out of his seat. "I bet you don't even know how."

"I mean, I know a little bit, but you're right, I don't-"

"C'mon, I'll show you. Hold my hand with that one, there you go. Now place your other hand on my hip. My _hip, _Rex, lower." She gave him a smile as he began blushing. "The part of me that curves, that's my hip. There you go. Now follow my lead...there, easy, isn't it? Even you can handle this."

She took him through a few steps of the song, showing him how to twirl her, how to dip her. "Well...this seems pretty easy," Rex said, after a few moments.

"You're supposed to be the one leading, not me, though."

"But this song's so slow and simple. How's anyone screw it up-"

Suddenly, the tempo of the song changed, switching over to the more fast-paced, lively portion of the dance that Nia loved. She laughed as Rex stumbled in shock, breaking free of him. "See, for this part you've really got to have some fancy footwork, like this," she said, placing her hands on her hips, tapping her feet rapidly in rhythm to the beat.

Rex's eyes widened. "What the-how the hell are you keeping up?"

"Try it!"

"There's no way – hold on." Rex put his hands on his hips and tried imitating her dance, biting his lip in concentration as he desperately tried to keep up. He didn't do so bad...for a few seconds. Then, his large boots, not really designed for dancing, tripped him up, and he fell backwards into a potted plant.

Nia stopped her dancing to burst out laughing. "Oh...oh man, oh I can't breathe," she gasped, already breathless from the exertion of the dance. She offered Rex a hand to help him up, but fell backwards back into her chair, laughing too hard to help him.

She was still laughing when Rex paid their bill, still laughing when they walked out of the restaurant back into the cool night air of Fonsa Myma. "Oh...oh man," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Oh, that was great. Great dinner, and all I had to do was make some crappy carvings."

Rex looked down at her, somewhat annoyed. "Oh. You're done laughing, now?"

"I dunno if I'll ever be."

Rex ignored that. He fished one of Nia's carvings out of his pocket as they walked along, examining it. "I don't think your carvings are crappy, you know. I mean I was skeptical at first. Still think it's bullshit that you won our bet with them. But I think they look pretty neat."

"You went and bought one? You didn't need to do that, you know. I've got tons of them, you could have just asked me for one if you wanted it."

They wandered the streets of Fonsa Myma for a while, passing by a small ledge that overlooked a pristine blue lake, ringed by strange, alien, multicolored trees, on their way back to the inn. They stopped for a moment to appreciate the view, staring out at the landscape that stretched out beneath the cliffside city of Uraya's capital.

"Uraya is awfully pretty," Nia said, leaning up against the ledge. "It's like everywhere you go, they've got these fantastic views."

"Mm." Rex was silent for a moment. "Hey, Nia. What were you going to say to me this morning? You know, right before Vandham came over. We got kinda busy the rest of the day, I never had a chance to ask."

Nia's eyes widened in surprised as she glanced over at him. She was surprised that he remembered that. She could tell him...but suddenly, she was seized by an urge to tell him not just about her sister, but to tell him about everything. Why not? Rex...it was so comfortable being with him, and...he'd understand, wouldn't he? Of course he would, Rex was a sweet kid, and he made her feel so happy and free, like she was in this moment, she could get this burden off her chest and be free, there was no reason to fear, Rex liked her a lot and it wouldn't change anything…

But...this night was so nice. As much as she loved her sister...her past didn't have to be a part of every new happy memory, did it? It could be something new, couldn't it?

"Oh, don't worry about it," she said finally, staring out at the lake. "I'll tell you some other time."

Eventually, they abandoned the beautiful night time view of Uraya, and made their way back to the inn.

Nia paused outside the door to the lobby. "You know...thank you, Rex. Tonight was fun. More fun than I've had in a long time."

"It was!" Rex said, stretching out, his hands behind his head. "You know, there's something to this whole travel thing. How about, every new place we go to, we try to find a nice place to eat at? I want to try this whole 'food from every land' thing you've got going. But let's not do seafood every time, yeah?"

Nia laughed softly. "Yeah, well. I suppose it will depend on what the others want to eat too, huh."

"Actually," Rex said, studiously avoiding her eyes, "I was thinking that, uh, it could be just a...thing you and I do. You know."

Nia looked up at him in surprise. "I….yeah, that sounds nice," she said, finally. She was glad for the night hiding the furious blush in her cheeks.

"But I'm not paying every time!" Rex said, finally looking back at her, a faint blush on his cheeks. He seemed...somewhat relieved that she had said yes. "That place cost me an arm and a leg. Plus you've got plenty of extra coin from selling your art, haven't you?"

"Oh, what a cheapskate, making a lady pay for her date," Nia teased. "Fine, fine, I'll pay next time." She cast her eyes around, then snatched a couple of flowers from a nearby bush, deftly slipping them into Rex's jacket. "Here, for you."

"And what do these ones mean?" Rex asked, as he opened the door to the lobby.

"You've got the book with you still, right? Look 'em up when you get back to your room," Nia said, as they walked inside. "Goodnight, Rex."

She watched, humming happily, as Rex walked up the stairs back to his room. She swayed her hips, twirling, in a happy little dance to herself, in the lobby.

"I take it you two had fun?"

Nia's eyes widened. She looked out across the lobby. The lobby of this inn was fairly large, with a few chairs arranged in front of a fireplace, roaring with a crackling fire. She hadn't noticed, walking in, but Morag and Vandham were occupying to of those chairs, drinks at their side, pondering over their moves in some board game that was laid out in front of them.

"I...yes, I did," she said defiantly, refusing to let herself be embarrassed. She crossed the lobby, sitting down with the two of them. "What about you two?"

"Just thinking over what our next move should be," Morag said quietly, sipping from her drink.

"I think you should move your knight here-" Nia said, reaching out.

"Not in the game," Morag said. "Where we should head next on our way to...Elysium. Indol seems like the best bet. But I would really like to make a stop in Mor Ardain, if we can."

"Ah. Yeah...that's right. We're gonna be leaving Uraya soon, aren't we." She looked up at Vandham, suddenly sad. "I...suppose that means you'll be staying here, yeah?"

Vandham laid a finger against his nose, grinning at her. "Well. I was really considering coming along with you guys."

"You were?" Nia said, ears twitching, leaning forward excitedly. She had been hoping Vandham might say something like that. She thought he was probably the sort of good influence Rex needed.

Vandham nodded. "I mean, running a mercenary group is nice and all. But, c'mon. A quest for Elysium, with the legendary Aegis? The new driver of the Aegis? Mor Ardain's finest?" he said, raising his cup to Morag. "That's the sort of opportunity that comes along maybe once in a lifetime. And besides, Rex...he ah...well, he sort of reminds me of someone."

"Really? Who?" Nia asked, curiously.

Vandham looked into his cup, stirring it idly in his massive hands. "Ah...I used to...have a little boy of my own," he said, quietly. "Died, some time ago. Sickness. Rex reminds me a lot of him. Guess I feel like I gotta do my best to look out for him, make sure he doesn't hurt himself." Vandham looked up, and grinned at Nia. "I think between the two of us, we can take care of him, yeah?"

Nia was shocked. She had never imagined the boisterous, crude Vandham as the fatherly sort. And yet...it made a certain sort of sense. Looking back, she realized that Vandham would often treat Rex the way she had seen fathers treat their sons. Pushing them to do their best, but always protective and watchful of them. She felt sadness stab into her heart. Vandham...had probably been a very good father.

"What happened to your wife?" Morag asked, softly. "If you don't mind me asking."

Vandham's hand went to the scar on his face, tracing it thoughtfully. "Ah, after my boy passed, I guess...she couldn't really stand the sight of me. I can't blame her, really. Probably just reminded her of him. Oh well, is what it is, right? Can't go back and undo the past." He set his drink down and shook his head, banishing the sadness from his face. "It is what it is. Point being, I think Rex could use someone else by his side to make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid."

Nia barked a laugh. "He could use an army of people by his side for that!"

Up in his room, Rex twirled the flowers Nia had given him in his hands idly as he leafed through the book. One was a blue daisy. It took him a while to find the right page, but….

"...terrible dancer," he said, chuckling. "Right. Well, I suppose I deserve that one."

He picked up the other flower, this one a pale pink carnation, the petals at its edges striped with white. This one was going to be a pain. Simple color combinations were easy to find, but patterns could have completely different meanings for the slightest variation.

His eyes widened when he finally found the meaning. He found himself double-checking multiple times to make sure it was the right one, for nearly twenty minutes. Could it be that Nia had made a mistake? No – actually it seemed as if this was one of the more commonly given flowers, and there actually weren't any others that looked very similar to it that had a different meaning.

It meant, "Very handsome."

Rex blushed as he held the flower, twirling it. He heard footsteps out in the hallway. Looking out, he saw Brighid walking past, out of her disguise. Probably not a good idea, but well, she could barely stand wearing it. She was probably fine as long as she stayed indoors without it. She glanced in at him, arching an eyebrow. "Ah. Hello, Rex. How was your dinner?"

"It was...nice," Rex said. "Ah, Brighid. I don't suppose you know how to dance, do you?"

"Oh, absolutely," Brighid smiled. "Dance isn't just for frivolity and grace on the ballroom for, but can help your movements on the battlefield, as well. I've got more than a few country's styles under my belt. Why do you ask?"

"You wouldn't...mind giving me some pointers, would you?"

**Note:**

Man, this chapter ended up being much longer than I thought it would be, but now we're set up for the end of the game's 'Chapter 3' content in the next update. I debated on whether or not to introduce Zeke and Pandy this chapter, and ultimately decided against it, thinking it would bloat an already-long chapter more, just to introduce some characters that wouldn't really show up properly until later. But don't worry, they will be showing up in the 'Chapter 4' content. As usual, please comment if you can, comments are very motivating


	11. Chapter 11

**31.**

Cole groaned as he sat down in his office, careful not to disturb the chaotic jumble of scrolls and scraps of notes that he had scattered about his desk.

Another successful play had just taken place. Well, successful was relative. Cole had thought that with a potential war drawing near, that people might want to take refuge in entertainment to help them escape from reality. And for a while, that had been true. But as the war drew closer and closer, the people of Fonsa Myma had abandoned the playhouse. The sort of entertainment they wanted these days seemed to involve much more drinking.

Cole could hardly blame them. Mor Ardain was the preeminent military power in the world. And...something had gone rotten in Mor Ardain. The past few wars they had launched...they had become more and more brutal. The invasion of Gormott had seen the extermination of entire Gormotti tribes as a means of crushing resistance. And during his visit to the capital...there was a strange energy there, a horrifying sort of sense of jubilation, of madness. And it had broken Cole's heart, because there was so much about Mor Ardain that might otherwise be good, or beautiful. Mor Ardain was a tragedy in the making.

"Hello, Minoth."

Cole's head snapped up, his eyes widening, as he glanced towards the doorway, from where the voice had come. There stood three figures, concealed in heavy cloaks. They stepped into his office, tossing back their hoods as they did so. One was a young man with an arrogant look on his face, unfamiliar to Cole. His eyes widened further at the sight of the other two, though. It was Jin, and...a somewhat familiar looking red-headed woman. He gasped as he saw the emerald core crystal on her chest, in the shape of a cross.

"Mythra," he snapped, leaping to his feet. It was no use though, really. His fighting days were long behind him, and even in his prime, he could not have stood up to her alone. He was completely at their mercy.

"It's...Pyra, now," the Aegis said, giving him a wan little smile. "Please. Sit down. We're not here to fight."

Cole remained standing, ignoring her. He looked towards Jin. "Jin. I had heard that you had fallen in with the Aegis. I guess...I always thought in the back of my head, that they must be untrue. Or a misunderstanding. But now I get to see it with my own eyes."

Jin fixed him with a flat, deadly, penetrating stare. The warmth, the spirit that Minoth had remembered was gone from those eyes completely. "I don't expect you to understand," Jin said quietly. "And I don't care to waste the time explaining."

"Well, if you're not here to fight, what are you here for?"

Pyra strode forward, getting closer and closer to him. Cole couldn't help but shiver. There was a deep sadness in her eyes, and even a warmth that had never been there before when she had...been Mythra. But beneath it all, he recognized something...Cole had an intimate familiarity with madness, and the Aegis, oh yes, she had it shining out of her eyes. All the more dangerous because it was subtle, not the wide-eyed glare of a lunatic. It reminded him, he realized with a start, of Amalthus.

When she was about a foot from him, she stopped. "You know...we...never really got the chance to talk much before, did we? But...I've always wondered, if maybe...you might be able to understand. We both share a connection, after all. We have the same driver."

Cole steeled himself, fighting against the instinct to step back from her. He crossed his arms instead, fixing her with a defiant glare. "I haven't spoken to Amalthus in...centuries, really."

Pyra laughed softly. "Neither have I. But we both know the driver who awakens a blade has a...deep impact on them that never goes away. Isn't that right?" She reached out, and Cole flinched as she laid a hand against his face. "I...know what it's like," she murmured softly. "Having that man's mind be...a part of you. It….took me too long to get some independence from him. People...suffered. Died. Because of it."

Cole stared at her, then slowly began chuckling, a chuckle that grew into a wracking cough. "Is….is that it," he gasped, when he recovered. Pyra removed her hand from his face, frowning at him quizzically. "Is _that _it?" he continued. "Is that what this is all about? This...new form? The peaceful attitude? You blame him for the things you did?"

Pyra's eyes widened somewhat in shock. "Not completely," she replied, uncertainty in her voice. "But...it's undeniable that his influence..."

"Pyra," Cole interrupted. "I...know Amalthus has a lot of darkness in him. I know what it's like to be awoken from him. It's in me, too." He shook his head. "There are times….when I can feel it more than others. When I look at the world, and I can see all the ugliness and awfulness in it, and it's...overwhelming. And I know that's the part of Amalthus in me talking."

Pyra, recovered from her shock, smiled warmly at him. "See. I knew you would understand. We're...alike, aren't we?" 

Cole laughed in her face again, wheezing. "We're _nothing _alike. I have that in me, and you know what I didn't do? I didn't choose to go out and slaughter a bunch of innocent people." He continued laughing. He could do nothing else. It was all so ridiculous.

Pyra said nothing. She merely stood, watching him. She no longer looked puzzled, or sad. She glanced back at Jin, emotionless. "Don't you understand, though?" she whispered finally, despair creeping into her voice. "Don't you see the way the world is…?"

"Don't you get it?" Cole continued. "It's not the world, Pyra. It's not even Amalthus. _You _are responsible for your actions. And I'm nothing like you, and I'll never understand you, because hell, while I may not be the greatest person, _I'm not a monster._" He laughed, freely, his heart suddenly unburdened, light.

Pyra stepped back, as if she had been struck by a heavy blow. The color drained from her face. She shook her head, covering her face with a hand. "I really hoped you might understand," she muttered, uncertainly. "Out of anyone...I thought you might see."

"Oh, enough of this," the young man who had come in with them snapped irritably, pushing his glasses back on his face. "We're here for a reason, old man. We know you met with Malos. Why don't you help us draw him out, and I won't gut you."

"Akhos," Pyra snapped.

Cole spread his arms wide, still laughing. "Go ahead! My time here is short anyway, boy. I don't fear you one little bit."

Pyra glanced him over, considering. "You do look….like you aren't doing very well. Early Flesh Eater experimentation was...so primitive. We could help you, Minoth. We know quite a bit about Flesh Eaters. We could fix your ether flow, give you back your strength. You help us, we help you. What do you say?"

"I just told you that I don't care if you gut me. What makes you think I'd help the likes of you for a cure? I've grown used to the idea of death. Humans live with it every day, after all. There's nothing you can threaten me with or offer to me."

"Enough," Jin snapped, finally breaking his silence. He fixed Cole with that deadly, flat stare again. "Cole, Malos being bonded to this child is a joke. A farce. An accident. And it's not any good for him, either. Help us lure Malos out, and this whole idiotic joke can end. It's better for him in the long run anyway, and you know it."

Cole stared back at Jin for a long moment. "It may be less of a joke than you think," he said quietly. "That's...not just any kid, that Malos bonded to, you know. He wants to get to Elysium. And he seems to attract powerful allies." The old Flesh Eater shrugged. "Maybe the wheels of fate are turning again. I don't think it was an accident."

Jin was silent for a long moment, considering this, looking Cole up and down, eyes glaring out from behind his devil's mask. "Fine," he said, quietly. "We'll find some other way to draw him out. Pyra, Akhos, let's go."

Akhos threw his hood up immediately, with an irritated hiss. Pyra gave Cole one last confused, sad look, before she exited the office. Jin was the last to leave. "Jin, wait," Cole called, before he had left. Jin paused, lingering by the doorway. "I'm...sorry," Cole said, finally. "I always wanted to say that to you. We were comrades, and….I should have done more, to help you out of your pain, after the war. I...wonder how things may have turned out, if I had."

Jin froze, for a moment, his back still turned to Cole. "It...is what it is," he said quietly. "Can't change the past."

"It's one of my biggest regrets," Cole continued, staring down at the floor. "You deserved better. You...all did."

Jin glanced back over his shoulder. For a moment, Cole could swear he could see the old warmth in his eyes. The old Jin, the gentle, sincere man that he had once been. "I...don't blame you for it," Jin replied. "It was….good to see you, Cole."

And then he was gone.

Akhos, Pyra and Jin stopped outside of the playhouse, shielding their eyes against the bright glare of the sun as they stepped outside. The plaza the playhouse was in was mostly empty, a few stray advertisements blowing across the cobblestone in the faint wind.

"We know where he's staying," Akhos said irritably. "Why don't we just go to that inn and ambush him? Why bother drawing him out? I think the three of us could take him and his little troupe."

"We're not going to start a fight in the middle of the city," Pyra snapped at him. "There's no need to get anyone else caught up in our battle. If we can draw him out alone, we can take him in without anyone at all getting hurt."

"We don't really have a way to draw him out," Jin mused. And then, his sharp eyes detected movement. He whipped his head around to stare at a small, timid girl, approaching the three in cautious half-steps.

"Ex-excuse me," she said, her voice a frightened, awed whisper. She looked up at them with large, sad eyes, toying nervously with a long strand of her hair. "Did...did you say you could help my grandpa?"

**32.**

Malos, being the Aegis, did not ever truly sleep.

While his body "slept", he retreated to a portion of his mind to meditate. His mind could hold large, detailed landscapes, in a way a human's mind could not truly ever replicate. Sometimes, he could shape the landscapes to his desires. But he seemed to have a set of landscapes in his mind that had nothing to do with his memories, and that he had no power to change. One of these was the meditation spot that he retreated to during sleep. A large, stone ring platform, suspended in perfect blackness. In the center of the ring was a darkness deeper than even the perfect black that surrounded it, darker and deeper than could almost be described. The void, from which he drew his power. The great emptiness at the heart of all being.

He had no idea, really, why he retreated here during sleep. It was as his Father made him. It must be the same for Mythra, as well, although perhaps she had a different landscape that she retreated to.

It was during sleep that he'd sit, and stare into the void, meditating on the nature of this emptiness. Malos was not what many might call philosophical. But this particular hole, this particular emptiness, this nothing at the heart of things, fascinated him, in a way. How all of being sprang from non-being. During sleep, he would sit, and consider, and try to resolve how this could be so. And his mind raced with more thoughts, faster than any human could ever think, when considering this. Although, ever since he had been damaged in his battle with Mythra, he had found that his thinking on the subject was much slower than it had been before. It may very well be that his Father had also created him to try to solve this particular problem. All questions that could be answered in time.

Malos sat, staring into the void, cross-legged, his mind computing, considering, holding a thousand different thoughts about the subject, when he was interrupted from his reverie.

"Malos," came a quiet voice from behind him.

Malos whipped his head around, to witness Pyra, glancing about herself, at the darkness, fearfully. He got to his feet slowly, purposefully. "Well, well," he said, quietly. "Hello, Pyra."

"This...is your mind?" Pyra asked with wonder, still staring about. "Oh...Oh Malos, I never knew. Why would Father make you this way?" She looked at him with pitying, sad eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Malos threw his hands up. "Okay. Sure. Come into my mind and insult it. Are you here for a reason?"

Pyra finally tore her eyes away from the void and steeled herself with a deep breath. "I'm here because...we're siblings. And I think that….despite all this..." here, she gestured around herself, at the darkness, "I think...you're a good person. I think you're doing what you think is right."

Malos stared at her in shocked disbelief. "Oh. Well, thank goodness. The mass-murderer thinks I'm a good person. That one was really keeping me up at night. Are you serious, here?"

"Yes," Pyra said simply. "Malos, please. You know...you're going to hurt Rex, right? No matter how much you train him, no matter how strong he is, you're going to burn him up inside. He can't take it forever. No human can take your power. And because I think you're a good person, I think you don't want that. At all. Do you?"

Malos was further stunned by this. He contemplated in silence for a moment. "No. I don't. But I wouldn't even _need _a human to lend my power if it wasn't for you."

Pyra walked forward, a sympathetic smile growing on her face. "I knew you were a good person. I knew you were. You have no idea how much I admire you for that, when Father filled your mind with….all this. And I get it, I really do. You don't believe I've changed. I wouldn't either, if I was in your position. I did awful things. But I think about it, every single moment of every single day. Just...come with me, please. Let Rex live his life. I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want. I just want to talk. Come with me, and we can talk, and I can give you my point of view, and you can make up your own mind. I promise you, I won't make you do anything at all you don't want to do. We can work it out, talk until we agree. You might even change _my_ mind!" She grabbed his hand, smiling up at him. "And we can even...spend some time together, just as siblings. I...always wanted that."

Malos stared down at her. She seemed...sincere enough. Her face was full of optimism, hope, pleading. It….was like her, and yet not like her. During the Aegis War...when she had been Mythra...the Angel of Death…

Mythra during the Aegis War had been a burning beacon of awful madness. Utterly convinced of her purpose. Optimistic, full of bravado, somewhat arrogant...and completely certain that she was changing the world for the better by burning huge portions of it away. But Malos had always wondered, if he hadn't been bonded to Addam...had he might have felt similarly? As the Aegis, when he had first awoken, it was all too easy to see the world as...beneath him. To dismiss, uncaring, the companions he traveled with. It was only through journeying with them, talking to them….Jin….that he had grown to appreciate just what he was saving from her.

"What is your mission?" he asked quietly.

"Hm?"

"Your mission," Malos repeated. "Last time we talked, when I was awakened...you said you had a mission. What is it?"

"We can talk about it later," Pyra replied. "We'll have all the time in the world to talk about it. We-"

"Be honest with me, Pyra." Malos yanked his hand from hers. "If you've truly changed, start by being completely honest with me. What is your mission?"

"It's….to prevent as much suffering as possible," Pyra said, cautiously. Then she took a deep breath, steeling herself, and stared Malos in the eye. "Even if it means asking Father to change the world he created. Even if it means...ending it."

"Get out," Malos snapped, erupting with black flame. He reached out towards her, ready to sever her connection to his mind.

"Malos, wait, please," she cried, leaping back, and suddenly there were tears streaming down her face. "You don't understand," she sobbed. "No one does, please, please listen, please, I know all the suffering this world goes through, I know all the suffering I caused myself, don't you have any idea? I don't want to hurt any more people. I'm not going to sink any more Titans. If it has to end, I want it to be as clean an end as possible. Didn't you ever wonder why it had to be this way? Please, please, I just want it to stop!"

"We have nothing to talk about," Malos snarled. Black flame jetted forth from his hand, wrapping around Pyra. "Out of my mind. Now. Out."

Pyra screamed, a long, wordless howl. And then she cried: "We have Iona!"

Malos lowered his hand, the black flames receding. Pyra stared up at him, wincing. "Who?" 

"Minoth...Cole's 'grand-daughter'," Pyra replied, slowly. "I didn't want it to have to come to this. I was hoping you'd listen and we could just let her go."

"You really are a piece of work. You come here, into my mind, with the gall to judge me, with the gall to tell me you've changed, then tell me you want to end the world and that you've kidnapped a child." Malos spat out into the darkness. "You make me sick. You make me embarrassed that you're my sister."

Pyra's eyes widened, as if Malos had just slapped her across the face. "Please don't say that," she whispered, tears still streaming down her face. "Please. We're siblings. We...we'll understand each other like no one else really will. No one else knows what it's like to be Father's children."

Malos ignored her. "So, what's the deal here? Come meet you alone, or you'll kill the girl?"

Pyra opened her mouth to deny this, but paused, staring at Malos through blurry tears. He was looking at her with such contempt, such hatred, the sort of cold disdain that no one but her brother could really summon. Why did it have to be like this? She could deny that she would ever hurt the girl, but Malos wouldn't ever believe her, anyway. "You already think I'm a monster," she murmured to herself. "So...yes. Come meet us by Olethro ruins, alone, or we'll...kill her."

"You _are_ a monster," Malos said, his eyes flat, sneering down at her. "How could you possibly not understand that? Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

"It shouldn't be like this," Pyra whispered to herself. There was a part of her, a part of her that had hoped, deeply, that she and Malos might get along. It was so damn lonely, being an Aegis. Being one of Father's children. She had Jin, but she had always hoped that she might one day be able to talk to her brother, that they may relate to each other in ways they couldn't relate to anyone else. It was her fault, her own damn fault, for wishing so much for that kind of bond, when she knew it would hurt her. But she couldn't help it, she couldn't help it, damn it all. "We're siblings, we-"

"Shut up," Malos said, the words stabbing through her. He was a pillar of black flame now, his words echoing to her as if from across a great distance. She could feel the hate he had for her, the contempt, radiating through his mind, and it tore her apart. "Sickening. Sickening. _Out of my mind, now." _

And with a blast of black flame, a howling explosion, Pyra was gone, her connection to his mind severed.

Malos awoke from his nap, his eyes snapping open, in his room in the inn. He rose, smoothly, stepping to the window, pushing aside a curtain to look outside. It was late afternoon, the setting sun heavy, spilling across the city, staining the blue rooftops orange, creating a glittering sea of bright lights as it reflected off the myriad windows of the city's buildings.

He could almost laugh. Talking with Pyra...filled him with such rage, such contempt, such sheer righteous hatred. It felt _good _to hate something as twisted, as awful, as corrupt as her. It invigorated him. Filled him with a burning, roaring energy.

"Well," Malos said to himself, clenching his fists, "I suppose there's only one thing to do."

**33.**

Olethro ruins was located at the top of a long, marble staircase, at the pinnacle of Fonsa Myma.

Malos was somewhat surprised that they still existed in such good condition. He had walked these steps once before, long centuries ago. It was where Addam had first awoken him. He shielded his eyes from the sun, staring up the long climb ahead of him. It was nearly dusk now.

When he had first awoken...he was much different than he had been now. Awakening...wasn't really like calling him into existence. It was instantiating him, in a particular form. He had existed before awakening, but his memories of that time…they were odd, strange, impossible to process, really. A series of strung-together, abstract thoughts and concepts. Probably not meant to be recalled with perfect accuracy in his current form. He simply knew, he had existed before Addam instantiated him.

When he had first...manifested, he had been much different than he was now. It was also hard for him to recall early memories from this time. He remembered...his annoyance, at being called into being. When he had first manifested, he hadn't even had a face – the first form he had chosen was encased entirely in black armor, and inside the armor, which he never removed, was nothing but the black flame. He had come into existence simply knowing his duty: to stop Mythra. And he wanted to get it over with, as soon as possible, in order to...go back to how he had been. To his previous form. Something about his previous form...wanted to go back to what it had been doing before he had awoken. He wasn't sure what it was. It was simply how he had been created. He just knew he had preferred the abstract, strange realm that he had been pulled from.

It had taken time, for him to open up to the experiences of this world, to see the worth of it. It was actually...seeing Jin and Lora, that had made him curious about this world. The bond they shared had intrigued him. And it was actually Jin's cooking that had made him curious enough to make him take a face, made him curious enough to manifest in his current form. He had wanted to know what it meant to taste.

But as for the bond...it seemed he was incapable of it. Again, simply how his Father had created him. He was never able to have the sort of emotional connection, the glowing golden cord that other blades had. His connection was painful for humans, instead. Vampiric, destructive. He...didn't mourn it, really. It was what it was. His bond was interesting enough in itself. But it would be a lie to say he wasn't envious of other blades, sometimes. The emotional connection they had. Malos didn't particularly care for the idea of love, though he found it amusing, and somewhat endearing in others. But the idea of the experience itself – the knowledge he might draw from it – after all, what if the glowing golden cord held some bit of information that might help him solve the eternal paradox of the Void?

But even though he was incapable of manifesting the golden cord that other blades could, he had gained a taste of normal emotional connections. He had...genuinely liked many of the people he had traveled with, with Addam. And...Jin in particular. The two of them, during the Aegis War, had gotten along very well. Jin had shared his ironclad sense of duty, and Malos had admired Jin's desire to change the world. After all, what was the point of knowledge? Power. And what was the point of power? To change the world. Shape it, as you saw fit.

The idea that Jin….was the same Jin he had been all those centuries ago...why would Jin be with Pyra? What had happened to him?

Malos summoned his blade to his hand, as he mounted the final few steps up to the peak. The stairs led to a large arch, which opened up into a wide ampitheater, empty now – but Malos had seen it filled with a crowd of hundreds when he had first awoken. It was still in amazingly good condition – some cracks in the marble, here and there, some weeds springing up from between the cracks, but still entirely serviceable. The sky was visible from here, and the gargantuan, waving tail of the Urayan Titan, waving off into the horizon. The sky was stained orange and purple, lighting up the Cloud sea like a painting.

In the center of the ampitheater stood Akhos, Obrona, Pyra, and Jin, silhouetted against the setting sun, casting long, stretching shadows that reached out toward him. It was difficult to make out their features, but Pyra's glowing green core crystal shone out from her silhouette like a beacon. Iona stood by them, cowering, her arm held in Akhos' iron grip.

"Malos," Pyra called out to him. "Please. Put your blade away. We don't need to fight. Just come with us. Everything I said still applies. I just want to talk-"

"I'm here," Malos snapped, interrupting her. "Now let Iona go."

"Not until you're on the ship with us," Akhos began, but Pyra shot him an absolutely withering look. "Fine, fine," he said, putting his hands up, releasing Iona. "Get out of here, brat. And if you call the guards, I'll pay you and your grandpa a visit."

Iona ran towards Malos, quickly scampering past him, tears in her eyes. She paused at the top of the steps, looking back towards Akhos. "Y-you're an _asshole,_" she shouted, then darted down the steps with a yelp.

"Hah!" Malos laughed. "I like that kid." Then he turned back toward the trio, walking toward them.

Pyra walked forward to meet him. "Malos, please," she pleaded. "Put your blade-"

Malos continued ignoring her. "Jin," he called out. "What are you doing? Why are you with these monsters? What the hell happened to you?" He shook his head. "What would Lora think?"

Jin had drawn his blade himself, holding it out in front of him, in the steeled, disciplined stance that Malos still found so familiar. But his eyes...they held so much rage. "You," he said, his voice flat and cold, "Never, never say her name to me."

Pyra and Malos, walking towards each other, were about ten feet from each other now. Malos stopped, and Pyra did as well. "You're not going to be able to beat us," Pyra said. "Fighting would be pointless. I don't want to hurt you. Just come with us, and let this end."

"Wait," Akhos snapped suddenly. "What's that noise?"

Jin, Pyra and Akhos spun around, as with the flap of mighty wings and an awful roar, Gramps soared up from beneath the platform the ampitheater was built on, landing in the middle of it with an slam, enough to shake the ground, behind Akhos, Obrona and Jin. Tora, Poppi, Morag, Brighid, Vandham, Roc, Nia, Dromarch and Rex all quickly leapt from his back, blades at the ready.

Malos smiled. This had been the plan, quickly hatched once he had woken up. Let them think he was coming alone, and then ambush them when they were least expecting it.

"What have you done," whispered Pyra, eyes widening. "No, no no. Why are you dragging them into this? I don't want to hurt them! I don't want to fight them, please!"

"We don't have to fight," Rex yelled, stepping forward. "You guys are outnumbered. And we've got a Titan on our side. Why don't you give up?"

Jin, his sword at high ready, eyeing Gramps warily, pinned Rex with a hard stare. "Do you think a Titan guarantees you victory, boy?" he asked, his voice cold fury.

"Well, I certainly think I tip the scales in their favor," Gramps mused, baring rows of dagger-like teeth. His yellow, lantern-like eyes flicked to Akhos, who quailed a bit beneath his stare. "I, ah, am given to understand one of you shot my Rex with an arrow. I can be quite protective of the lad."

Pyra spread her hands. "Everyone...let's just...AKHOS, NO!"

But it was too late. The younger Flesh Eater had been slowly backing up from the group, quietly putting distance between them. And in a flash, he drew his bow, and let loose an arrow aimed at Rex's head.

And suddenly, everything was chaos.

With a flick of his tail, Gramps deflected the incoming arrow with his stony hide, and with a bellowing roar, dove after Akhos. Rex gaped at the sight. He had never seen Gramps get violent before. Had never seen his fury. It was like watching a small mountain attack someone. He stampeded across the arena, claws digging long, ragged marks in the marble, snapping and breathing flame at Akhos, who jumped backward into the ampitheater stands in panic, Obrona darting to his side.

Jin flickered, and suddenly, he wasn't where he had been. And suddenly, he was standing in the midst of the group, a stroke from his blade intercepted by Morag and Vandham simultaneously, who quickly fell into a deadly dance with him, Nia and Tora joining in.

"No!" Pyra screamed, despair thick in her voice. She turned around to face Malos, and her eyes were wild with panic and pain. "Why?!" she asked, her voice cracking. "Why?! Why would you put them in harm's way?!"

And in a flash, Malos bridged the gap between them, throwing his sword through the air to Rex as he did. The boy caught it expertly. And then Malos wrapped his hands around Pyra's neck, and lifted her bodily off the ampitheater floor. Pyra screamed as dark flames coursed through her body. They were...pulsing outward from her core crystal. She could feel Malos draining energy and information from her crystal, healing himself.

"There is no point in talking," Malos hissed at her, and his eyes were boiling pits of black flame, radiating hate. "Do you understand, _sister? _I am going to _annihilate you._"

Akhos leapt nimbly from stand to stand in the ampitheater, dodging the crashing blows and raking claws of Gramps, which were quicking reducing much of the stands to rubble. He looked out at the scene before him in panic. Pyra was struggling in Malos' grip, and Jin was flickering quickly, dueling the entire group, pushing himself much too hard for how exhausted he had been going into the battle. This was already going very poorly.

He screamed in panic as Gramps let out a mighty gout of flame, leaping down from the stands towards where Malos was choking Pyra. "Obrona!" he shouted to the blade at his side. "Do it! Cut their ether flow! NOW!"

Malos whipped his head towards them, giving him a baleful glare. "Not this time," he snapped, throwing Pyra aside like a ragdoll, where she lay gasping for breath. He hadn't finished healing himself, but there would be time for that later. He had repaired himself enough to regain some powers, at least. With a roar, Malos erupted into a pillar of dark flame and spread across the ground, racing rapidly, reforming next to Obrona, who had just begun to concentrate on her ether disruption. With a sneer, he stretched out a gauntleted claw, closing it around the glowing blue core crystal in Obrona's chest. Her wings fluttered in panic, and now it was her turn to scream, struggling, lashing out at him as he began draining energy from her crystal.

"Bastard!" Akhos screamed, dodging another one of Gramps' blows. He drew his bow, but with the Titan bearing down on him, couldn't manage to get an opportunity for a clean shot. "Stop! STOP!"

"AKHOS!" Obrona screamed, the fluttering of her wings growing weaker as Malos, with a grim smile, continued draining her. "AKHOS! IT HURTS! Help me, help me help me, I'm scared, I'm scared, it hurts so bad-"

Her screams and protests grew weaker and weaker. Akhos stopped giving a damn about the Titan attacking him, dashing across the battlefield in a panic, running towards Malos – only to arrive just in time to see Obrona's form go limp, and for her body to vanish within her core crystal with a flash of light, so that Malos was holding nothing but her crystal within his outsretched hand. Obrona's ether connection with him vanished.

He collapsed to his knees, the din of combat around him seeming far away, staring up at the Dark Aegis in shock. "No," he whispered. "Wh-why?"

Malos looked down at him in contempt. "Never forget, this is _your fault_," he spat. And with a final pulse of dark flame, Obrona's core crystal turned from a bright glowing blue to a deep, dead black. With a sneer, Malos clenched his fist, and her crystal shattered into shards and dust. "Never forget the price of trying to kill my driver," he continued, and with a contemptuous flick of his wrist, dashed the shattered shards and dust into Akhos' face.

Akhos' eyes went wide with stunned, absolute shock, and he didn't even have time to react before a flick from Gramps' tail sent him flying across the ampitheater, crashing into a wall, which splintered and cracked under the impact.

Meanwhile, Jin was flagging quickly, dueling the entire group. He cursed himself for driving himself to exhaustion before this battle. He could _feel _his core crystal growing more unstable, as he pushed himself further and further to the limit, drawing upon his powers to flicker, deliver a blow that was more often than not intercepted, if not parried by Vandham or Morag, then bouncing harmlessly off of Tora's shield, and flicker away before anyone could counterattack.

Finally, he thought he saw an opportunity. Nia had been sneaking around the fringes of the group, healing the small blows that Jin had managed to sneak in. Flickering carefully, he managed to suddenly shift the group away, and then flickered over to her, sword raised high above his head, poised to bring down a swift killing blow.

But the way she looked at him – her eyes widening in the brief second where she realized what was happening, but was powerless to stop it – the sadness there, the betrayal – Jin remembered Pyra's words: That Nia had adored him. And despite her treason, he found himself unable to bring that sword down, unable to deliver that blow.

And in the moment when he hesitated, the moment when he paused, a crack, like a gunshot, rang out from behind him, and pain tore through his back. He gasped, falling forward, and felt a painful, awful...tugging, deep within his gut, where nothing ought to be tugging at him. He glanced back in surprise, to see a jagged, bloody hole torn in his back, with a cable snaking out of it, leading to Vandham's wrist winch.

The large man gave him a vicious smile. "Hey there, Jin. You like this little rig up I got here? You see, when I heard I might be fighting you again, I asked my little furrypon friend here," - he nodded to Tora, who waved at Jin cheerfully - "if he might rig something up that would grab you from the inside, for my wrist cable here. The way I see it, now, if you try any of that flickering nonsense, you're gonna tear your own guts out."

Jin's eyes widened. He...wasn't actually sure what would happen, if he tried flickering with this cable inside him. He gasped with pain as Vandham flicked a switch on his wrist, and began pulling him in. He tried striking at the cable with his blade, but it was impossible to get a good angle to strike it from with any strength, pulled taut out his back as it was.

"I bet you don't even know the names of my men that you killed," Vandham snarled, as he pulled Jin closer and closer to the waiting blades of the group. "Well, let me tell you. Ricky. Rolf. Jules. Shen. Robbie. All good men. I've been looking to avenge them for a long time now."

"Wait."

Jin looked upward. Malos was approaching them, striding across the battlefield. Behind him, Jin could see Akhos desperately scrambling away from Azurda, clouds of dust and rubble flying through the air where the Titan slammed his massive claws. Where was Obrona? Why was she not disrupting the ether flow? His eyes flicked back to Malos, who stood only a few feet away now, seemingly not caring that he was with in the reach of Jin's blade.

"Jin," Malos said, and Jin was surprised to see real pain, real sadness in the eyes of the Dark Aegis. "What happened to you…?"

Jin lashed out at him with his blade, which Malos nimbly dodged. "You would never understand," Jin gasped through gritted teeth, fighting against the pain.

"I wouldn't." Malos shook his head. "How? How could you join up with the destroyer of Torna?"

Jin's eyes flashed. "You were _both _the destroyers of Torna! BOTH of you! You both tore the land apart! _She _repented! You, you-"

Malos reached out towards him. "Jin...it was our duty. I...thought you understood-"

"Exactly. You think it was all worth it, all for your damn duty of destroying her. _It wasn't worth it."_

Pyra gasped, finally recovering from Malos' attack. She raised her head, coughing, her vision blurry, looking out across the battlefield.

Akhos was dodging Azurda's attacks, just barely managing to dodge out of the way of the Titan's crushing blows. Obrona was nowhere to be seen. And Jin…

Jin was...stuck, a bloody hole in his back, with a cable snaking out of it, surrounded by the waiting blades of Rex's party. Pyra watched, horrified, as Malos, that black stain, that vampire in a blade's skin, reached out, his hands, is awful, killing hands reaching towards Jin's face…

"No," she whispered, stumbling to her feet. When Malos had drained her, she had felt his malice, his sheer will to destroy her, and she knew, seeing his mind, her Father had made him his most cruel instrument, and he was going to touch Jin, leave him a husk, leave him a nothing, Jin was going to die screaming…

"No," she said. "NO," she shouted. "JIN!"

And there was a burst of howling, searing light, like a miniature star had just descended on the battlefield. Everyone shielded their eyes, as the entire world turned white. Even Azurda paused, looking away from its source.

And when the light had dimmed, receding, Pyra was gone. In her place stood a tall, regal-looking woman, with long, flowing blond hair. She wore a short, white, pleated dress, and on her chest rested the same green core crystal that had decorated Pyra's. Long gloves ran up her arms, and both her gloves and dress were inlaid with gold and glowing green, and she held a sword of blazing light. She opened her eyes, a deep, golden hue, and in them there was despair more thorough and complete than Rex had ever seen. But the despair soon fled, replaced with fiery determination.

"You will _not hurt him," _Mythra said, raising her sword to the sky, and hellish light lanced from the sky, raining down around her.

Malos' eyes widened before he was thrown by one of the explosions. Seeing Pyra's weakness, he had assumed that Mythra had been damaged in her battle with him. But apparently she had been locking away her power. This was Mythra at full strength, undamaged, unrestrained.

The battlefield became a chaos of light, roaring explosions, and madness. Nia was tossed to the ground, ears ringing, as the explosions roared down around her. She gasped for breath, looking up. Rex was nearby, coughing dust, holding Malos' blade. Smoke surrounded her, obscuring most of her vision, flashing with muted light as yet more explosions rained down.

In front of her, as if watching in slow motion, she saw Mythra walk through the smoke and explosions, seemingly unaffected. She walked toward Vandham, the only one still on his feet. Though, Nia saw, he had a large, smoking hole in his side. With a roar, he dashed towards Mythra, Roc by his side, scythes whirling in his hands, raging against the dying light of day.

And for a moment, he was beautiful. For a moment, Mythra seemed taken off-guard by his fury and skill. For a moment, they danced among the lancing light, among the explosions and the chaos and the destruction, and for a moment, Vandham defied Mythra, favored creation of the Architect himself. His blades danced, faster than they ever had, and the Aegis herself, the Angel of Death herself retreated against his onslaught.

And it was no thoughtless charge. Nia could see what he planned. He was backing her up against the edge of the platform, where it opened up out into the Cloud Sea. If he could push her off the edge, he might save them all. Sweat poured from him, and he laughed a delighted laugh in the face of death, spitting defiance at Mythra, the wild-eyed daughter of the Architect, who, for all her might and glory, could not keep pace with his blades.

And then Mythra raised one white-gloved hand, and light flowed forth from her fingertips, lancing through Vandham.

"No," Nia said, as Mythra walked forward, grabbing the stunned mercenary by the collar, and she didn't have time to say anything more, before, with one smooth motion, Mythra slid her blazing blade through Vandham's chest. Roc shook, as if the sword had gone through his chest, as well, and fell to the ground.

Silence settled upon the battlefield, as the light stopped raining down from the sky, and the smoke began to settle. Silent all for the sound of weeping.

Mythra's weeping.

"Oh, why did you make me do it?" she asked, still holding Vandham's body in her hands, looking around the battlefield at the stunned, collapsed members of Rex's party. "Why did you wake me up, only to make me kill again?" She glanced up at them, and now her eyes were full of despair again. "Why? I never wanted this, I never wanted to be part of the ugliness of this world, not again. Why couldn't you let me sleep forever?"

In her hands, Vandham coughed up blood. She looked down at him with wild, frantic eyes as he reached out toward her, still-living but half-delusional, staring at her with eyes that could no longer see. "What're you talkin' about," he whispered to her, his fingers brushing against her face. "This world...ain't so bad…." He coughed, staring up at the sky. "Hey, little man, daddy's home," he said, voice barely audible, hoarse, a peaceful smile spreading across his face.

Mythra gasped, as his form went limp, and with a burst of light, Roc disappeared back into his core crystal. She dropped him, raising one hand to her mouth. "Why," she said, softly. "Why, oh, what have I done, why is it like this?" She looked around, with eyes that seemed to see past them, wild and mad and full of pain. "Oh, it's all still so awful, and I can feel it all," she whispered.

"No," Nia heard Rex snarl from beside her. He struggled to his feet, raising Malos' sword, his eyes wild and furious, looking at Vandham's body. And suddenly, his sword was writhing in black flame. He raised his gaze to Mythra, who looked down at him with shock. "I am going to kill you for this," Rex growled, with more anger and hate than Nia had ever heard in his voice, and he rushed at Mythra with a furious howl. Moments later, others leapt to their feet to join him, Morag, Tora, Poppi…

Nia, though, rushed to Vandham's side, Dromarch shadowing her.

She knew that, just because his body was mortally wounded, so much that his blade had retreated to its crystal, it didn't mean he was beyond her power to save. It was like when she had healed Rex, after Jin had killed him. Even though any doctor would have declared Rex dead, she could still feel a flame, deep within him, a determined flame, clinging on. As long as she could feel that flame in someone, she knew she could save them.

And she could feel that flame in Vandham now. Flickering. Growing dimmer by the moment. Fragile as a candle in a storm. But it was there. He could still be saved.

"C'mon big guy, hold on just a bit for me," Nia whispered, as she knelt by his side. His wounds were horrific, more than enough to drive the life out of anyone else. "But you're the legendary Vandham, aren't you," Nia said, smiling faintly. "This won't kill you, will it? You're a tough old bastard, you can come back from this." She poured healing into him, but, she knew, it wouldn't be enough, at all, to use her normal healing abilities. She would need to use her Flesh Eater abilities.

"Hold on, hold on, hold on," Nia whispered, as she glanced up. Could she do it without being noticed? Smoke still covered parts of the battlefield, and everyone else was busy fighting Mythra, who handily seemed to be keeping the upper hand. Maybe if she-

And then, while she was glancing around, wondering, she felt Vandham's flame go out.

Nia gasped, looking down at the corpse in front of her, now beyond her power to save. "No," she said, eyes wide. She looked down at her gloves, covered with his blood. "Vandham," she said, shaking him in a futile attempt to change the situation. But it was no use. Once the flame was gone, it was gone for good. Vandham was dead. She could have saved him, and now he was dead, because she had been such a damn coward fool to wait and wonder if she could manage to save him in secret. Her head was spinning, and her eyes stung with hot tears. "Oh, Architect," she gasped, as the tears began streaming down her face. "Oh, what have I done?"

She staggered to her feet, almost falling over. The world seemed flat, unreal. More explosions rocked the world around her as Mythra poured more light from the sky, but Nia barely noticed it. Her trembling fists clenched her twin rings. Dromarch had to forcefully push her out of the way of explosions that drew too near, projecting an ether shield to protect her from the blast, as she stumbled across the battlefield, toward Mythra.

Mythra, even half-mad and sick with guilt, was easily holding off Rex, Malos, Tora, Poppi, Morag and Brighid. With a flick of her wrist, bursts of light sent Tora and Poppi flying backwards. Strikes bounced off a seemingly impenetrable ether shield. Even Azurda, once he had recovered, was sent flying backwards, hide smoking, by yet another blast of light, the entire arena shaking as he crashed into the ampitheater's stands, sending rubble and dust flying. "Please stop," she begged, as she raised her hand, and an explosion sent Morag and Brighid flying through the air, to land with a harsh thud dozens of feet away. "Please. Please. I don't want to hurt you anymore. I don't want to hurt anymore. Please. Jin." She turned away from Rex, scanning the battlefield. "Jin. Where is-"

With a roar, Rex channeled Malos' power through his sword, concentrating as hard as he could at unmaking Mythra. Black flame ate through her ether shield, gnawing, melting, and she screamed as it ate into her as well.

"Rex," Malos said, eyes widening. "Careful. Don't draw on too much-"

"I have to," Rex gasped, eyes burning. He channeled more of the power into himself. And now, the flames weren't just flickering up and down Malos' blade in his hands. Now they were flicking up and down his arms, as well. He shoved away the pain. There was only one thing in the world he wanted in this moment, and that was to see Mythra lying broken in front of him. "She killed Vandham," he cried, choking on the word 'killed'.

Mythra turned towards him, anger flashing in her eyes, and she sent him flying with a blast of light from her palm as well. She turned towards the battlefield, where a staggering, limping Akhos was supporting Jin, dragging him towards her. "I've called...the Monoceros," Akhos panted. "It's...right below us."

Mythra nodded, then turned her wild, mad gaze towards Malos, the Dark Aegis, standing weaponless before her.

Malos blazed with dark flame. "You try to take me, and I'll kill them," he hissed, gaze flicking toward Akhos and Jin.

She stood, staring at him, for a long, silent moment, the wind howling through her hair, sword of blazing light in her hand. "It didn't have to be like this," Mythra replied finally, narrowing her eyes, blazing with fury. "You...you're as much a monster as me." And shaking her head, she walked away.

"No," Rex gasped, struggling to his feet once again, as Mythra, Akhos and Jin made their way to the edge of the platform, the area that dropped out into the cloud sea, looking back on Uraya's tail, its undulating motions now concealed in dusk. "NO!" he shouted, as Mythra took a breath, and then stepped off the platform, dropping down into the Cloud Sea hundreds of feet below. He ran to the edge of the platform, looking down. He thought he glimpsed the dark shape of a ship moving beneath the clouds.

He raised Malos' blade to the sky, drawing more and more power, unthinking, unfeeling of the pain, the dark flame roaring across his arms, dark flame dripping from his eyes. With a shout, he channeled it into the Cloud Sea. Huge pillars of the dark flame erupted from it, tearing huge, ragged holes in the Cloud sea itself, as Rex frantically spent his power, trying to take down the ship.

"REX!" Malos called. "STOP!" And then he glanced down to his side.

Nia was pulling at his arm. She looked dazed, shocked, tears streaking her face, and she looked up at him with a pleading expression. "Stop….giving him your power...please," she got out. "Please, don't hurt him anymore."

"I...can't," Malos replied, his eyes widening. Rex was drawing upon his power without Malos being able to control it. Nobody had ever been able to do that before. His eyes widened further as Rex channeled more and more of his power. "Someone has to stop him."

Nia stared up at Malos in shock, then glanced towards Rex, gasping. She could feel the deep, awful wounds he was inflicting on himself. She snapped out of her funk, dashing forward towards Rex. "Stop it," she yelled. "You damn fool, I said stop!" She grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around. Her eyes widened to see his face, dark flame dripping from his eyes, mouth. She drew back, and slapped him as hard as she could. "Stop it _right now_, you idiot, you're killing yourself!" She grabbed him by his shirt, shaking him. "Do you think we need another corpse right now?! Please...please, just stop."

Rex looked at her with shock, and then, slowly, the dark flame fled from him, slowly dwindling out. His eyes returned to their normal golden hue. He looked about the battlefield, the ampitheater now scored and pockmarked by craters, much of it smashed to rubble and dust. Everyone but Vandham was groaning, moving, slowly getting to their feet, shaking dust and pushing rubble off themselves.

His eyes settled on Vandham's corpse, lying sprawled in the center of the ampitheater. "No, stop," he said to Nia, tears welling up in his eyes, as she began to heal him. "I...don't deserve it."

Nia ignored him, healing him anyway, as they both staggered over to Vandham, sinking to their knees before him. He looked...peaceful, in a way. Almost as if a faint smile played across his lips. As if his last thoughts had been happy ones.

"Oh, Architect, I'm so sorry," Nia whispered, to Vandham, to Rex, to everyone. "This is all my fault. I'm so sorry."

"This is...funny joke, right?"

Everyone glanced across the battlefield to Poppi. The small robot girl had gotten up, and was staring at Vandham's corpse. An X was still painted across her face. She looked around at everyone, uncertainly. "This is...ha ha, joke, right? Vandham is playing a joke, right?"

"Oh, Poppi," Tora said.

"This is...just silly joke, so why does Vandham not get up?" She walked towards his body, kneeling besides it with Rex and Nia. "Why does he not get up?" she asked again, her voice finally breaking. She held a hand to her metallic chest. "Please get up, do not break Poppi's heart," she whispered.

And she threw herself across his body, letting out a long, mournful wail, and that was how the guards found them, drawn to the ruins by the sound of explosions.

**Note**

And there we go, chapter 3 is finished finally, clocking in at around 70k words. More or less, the next in-story chapter is going to be a lot of post-battle reactions, which I originally planned on including in this chapter as part of the "Chapter 3" content, but which would have made this chapter very, very long, so they can get a chapter to themselves, as part of the "Chapter 4" content, next week. The battle itself wound up being much longer than I thought it might be.

Music is very inspiring for me, and there's a few songs for Chapter 4 content that I have found very inspiring, but there is one song in particular here that really inspired me when writing Vandham's fight against Mythra and his death: "Song for Bob," by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis

I really considered having Vandham live, because I really enjoyed writing him, but that was the goal I set out for with this chapter: to make Vandham feel like a character whose story got cut short, whose presence you'd miss in later chapters.

As always comments are very inspiring, please comment if you can


	12. Chapter 12

**1.**

Jin awoke in the restoration chamber, peering out at the world through foggy green glass.

How long had he been in here? It had been at least a few days since the battle with Vandham, surely, but he could still feel the exhaustion deep in his bones, and a dull, gnawing pain in his back from where the Urayan mercenary had shot him. He held a hand to his head, wincing. Trying to remember felt like clawing through fog and wool stuffed into his head.

Pyra...Mythra, had killed the man. Jin found himself feeling a bit of remorse. Vandham...it was hard to deny that the man had gotten the upper hand on him, had been clever enough to defy them. Probably the only human driver he had met who had been able to do that. It was hard not to have a sort of grudging respect for him for that. If it hadn't been for Pyra awakening Mythra…

He had dim memories of Mythra, a figure of burning light, carrying him onto the ship, placing him in the restoration chamber...brief flashes of memory, of awakening in pain and seeing her burning bright, through the glass, watching him…

Trembling with exhaustion and a deep ache that still gnawed away at him, Jin pushed the lid of the restoration chamber open, and gingerly, cautiously, stepped out onto unsteady legs. He was well enough to walk, at least.

He had to find...Pyra, Mythra, whoever she was now. When Pyra had first come to him, first found him, he hadn't thought to question why she had changed, so uncaring and grief-stricken he had been. But as they had come to know each other, Pyra had told him the purpose behind the change. Pyra..._was _Mythra, and was not. She was a portion of Mythra, just a fraction of her, and powerful as Pyra had been, she had access to only a portion of her full Aegis powers. The rest of Mythra had been...locked away, partitioned, too overwhelmed by agonizing guilt and the...pain she could feel, in the world, to properly function. What did it mean that she was awake again?

Jin stumbled out of the restoration chamber's room, into the dark halls of the Marsanes, steadying himself against the walls of ship. The ship felt...it was difficult to describe. Heavy, haunted like some awful pall was hanging over it.

He began making his way down the hallway, glancing into the doors he passed. He paused at one. Akhos was in the room, sitting at a table, head in his hands, staring at a small pile of broken, shattered core crystal fragments on the table before him. He glanced up as Jin drew close, his eyes widening. "Jin. You're up. You...should still be in the restoration chamber."

Jin held up a hand, glancing at the sad, small pile of Obrona's remains on the table. "Akhos. Are you….alright?"

Akhos glanced down at the sad pile on the table, and his expression – for once, sincere, worried – fled beneath a mask of cruelty and arrogance. "Ah...yeah, I'm fine. Unfortunate what happened to Obrona, isn't it? But at least I won't have to put up with that annoying lisp of hers anymore. Seriously, wasn't that the worst?" His laugh was cut suddenly short by Jin placing his hand on his shoulder.

"You know," Jin said quietly, "You can be sincere."

Akhos looked for a moment as if he was going to simply continue denying. But then he looked down, and slowly began shaking, his face hidden in shadow. "I….hate him, so much," he whispered. "It wasn't enough for him to...simply reset her? He had to crush her, take her away from me forever?" He looked back up at Jin, and Jin felt his heart grow heavy, because he knew the hate he saw there in his eyes would never go away. It would be a part of Akhos forever, now. "I want to kill him," whispered the younger flesh eater miserably.

"Don't do anything foolish," Jin replied. "The Dark Aegis is _stronger _than you, Akhos. He wouldn't hesitate to do the same thing to you. Let that anger fade for a while, before you rush off and try to do anything on your own."

"I'm not that stupid," Akhos snapped, glancing away. He looked over at the table, back at Obrona's remains. "I...I think I might...go give her a burial," he said quietly.

Jin nodded. "Take your time. We'll always be here when you're ready."

"Pyra….Mythra….she's been hanging around close to the engine room, if you're looking for her. I'm not sure why."

Jin nodded, hiding his limp as he strode out of the room, leaving Akhos to his grief.

He descended down the dark, hidden stairways of the Marsanes, closer and closer to the ship's core, a dull, powerful throbbing ringing through the halls as he came closer and closer to the ship's power core. The feeling of dread he had felt, earlier, too, increased. He closed his eyes as he walked through the halls, trying to sense Mythra. The ether was...strange, here, moving in strange eddies and patterns. He couldn't understand what the purpose of it all was, but with a start, as he sensed Mythra, he realized she was the center of it.

Finally, he came to a heavy, steel door, bars across a small port window inlaid into it. This was...one of the Marsanes' prison cells. He could sense Mythra on the other side of the door. Why she had chosen this place to stay, he had no clue. Slowly, cautiously, he opened the door.

On the other side, the prison cell had long, deep score marks carved into its walls, twisted, melted metal. Mythra was frantically pacing back and forth in the middle of the room, hugging herself, looking down at the ground. Her head snapped up when she heard the door opening, and her eyes widened as she saw Jin standing in the doorway.

"Jin, you...stubborn fool," she snapped, approaching him. Jin looked down at her. It was so strange. She...felt like Pyra, and he could see Pyra in her eyes, in some of her mannerisms. But where Pyra had a calmness, a discipline to her, Mythra had a fiery passion. Despite her harsh words, she flung her arms around him, her forehead touching his. "You should be in the restoration chamber, still," she whispered. "You never listen to me."

Jin would have replied, but, with a start, he realized he could feel movements in the ether...originating from Mythra, and with shock he realized it was the beginnings of an ether cord, a thousand little branches extending from Mythra, trying to mesh with him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on fending off the connection. It felt so...right, so good, that it took all his willpower, all his discipline in effort to fight off the connection. He didn't even notice, for a few moments, that Mythra was kissing him, her lips soft and sweet upon his.

He broke off from her, pulling away from her embrace, his head swimming in a sweet fog. "Stop," he gasped, still fending off her attempts to bridge an ether connection between them. "We can't," he forced out.

Mythra looked up at him, pain written on her face, and he realized she couldn't control it either. She was doing all she could to fight back against the ether connection as well. "Jin...everything Pyra felt...everything she...feels...for you...I feel too," she whispered. "But...she...you couldn't understand, the things she feels, they're just...echoes of what I feel, just a portion, it's...so overwhelming..." She grasped his face in her hands, a miserable smile playing across her features. "She can...bear to be alone, I can't, I need someone to share this life with, to help me...bear the awful reality of this world. Oh Jin, of all the...pain and horror I can sense...you're the only beautiful thing I feel, I can't help it..."

"Please," Jin gasped, amazed at her strength, the sheer force of the ether flows extending from her. He grabbed her hands, pulling them away from his face. "We can't, you know we can't."

"I know," Mythra gasped, "but I want to, I want to so badly. Oh, Jin."

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she regained control of herself, pulling herself away from him, turning away from him, wrapping her arms around herself, retreating to a corner of the room, not looking at him. Jin panted, exhausted from the exertion of resisting her. How could it all have felt so...right? "What happened," he managed to get out, between gasps, "to Pyra?"

"She's...still in here," Mythra answered from the corner, shuddering. "She...is me. Just...a portion of me. But now that I'm awake, I wanted to...I've been a coward for so long, sleeping to escape this...nightmare Father created. Oh Jin, I can…feel it, this war, all the blades and their drivers suffering, dying, trying so hard to save each other, trying so hard to preserve beauty in the face of Father's cruelty..." with a cry of anguish, she raised a hand, and light flowed forth from her fingertips, raking deep scores in the metal wall of the prison cell.

Jin eyed the smoking wall, impassive. "We can...stop it all, soon enough."

"We can't just let it continue in the meantime," Mythra replied, whirling around to face him, her eyes hollow with despair. "Every second of it, every little bit of it matters." She raised her face upward, staring past the ceiling, as the strange currents and eddies of ether around her increased, shuddering as they flowed into her. "It...has to stop. We have to stop this war. I can't take it anymore."

Jin was quiet for a long moment. "I...don't know what would stop it, short of Mor Ardain gaining victory," he replied, cautiously, as Mythra clenched her fist, punching a small crater into the wall. "They've...been on this path for a very long time now."

And then he thought back. To Mythra, sliding her sword through Vandham's chest. Something Pyra herself would have never had the strength to do.

"There may be a way to stop it, he said quietly. "May be a way to...bring Mor Ardain to the negotiating table. But it would take some...violence. Some sacrifice." His gaze rose to meet hers.

Mythra was quiet for a long, long time. "If it takes a little suffering to end much more suffering," she replied, finally, "It will be worth it."

**2.**

Vandham's funeral took place quickly, almost too quickly to cope with. It was tradition for Urayan mercenaries to be buried where they fell, and buried quickly. Funerals were low key, and people could come to visit his grave as they found the time.

Famous as he had been, Vandham had no shortage of volunteers to dig his grave, from among the guards, among the citizens of Fonsa Myma. And Rex, as exhausted as he was from the battle, as burnt out as he was from Malos' power, forced himself to participate in the burial, though his limbs ached and his body buckled beneath him. The others, Nia in particular, had begged him to come back to the inn with them, once the guards had released them.

Rex had...lied to them. He didn't feel good about it, but it was what it was. He had agreed to come back to the inn to rest, and then snuck out to participate in the burial. He sweated and labored next to the citizens of Fonsa Myma. It was the least he could do for them, having taken their hero away. And a mere few hours after his death, the only indication that Vandham had ever existed at all was a small, humble grave marker, a small circular tombstone surrounded by white rocks.

A few of Fonsa Myma's citizens lingered around after the burial, some bowing their heads in prayer, others weeping. But most left. The time for visiting his grave would come later, throughout the coming weeks, when those who had known him, those who had loved him would make their way, their final pilgrimage to pay tribute to the man.

Rex made his way back to the inn, wincing with every step. It was early morning now. The power he had drawn on from Malos...had nearly killed him. He could feel it, like an open wound on his soul, his strength ebbing out of it. Nia had healed him a bit, but...he had pushed her away. And how could he face her, now? He knew...she wanted to heal him, more, but how could he possibly allow her to? It was his fault Vandham was dead. His fault that Vandham's killers had gotten away. If he had...fought harder, if he had trained harder, if he hadn't been such a damn lazy coward, Vandham might still be alive. Nia's care...it was more than he could ever possibly deserve. He couldn't bear to face her now, to benefit from her misguided compassion.

Nia awoke the next morning, early, her arms wrapped around Dromarch, the sun just barely peaking over the horizon. Even for this time of day, it was quiet, as if the whole city was in mourning, as if news of Vandham's death had already spread to every corner of the city.

Dromarch himself awoke as she extricated herself from him, and, purring softly, followed at her side as she descended the stairs slowly. He glanced up at his lady with concern. Through his bond, he could feel her emotions, and she felt...similar to how she had felt after her encounter with Akhos. Only worse, shot through with a deep grief that he hadn't felt in her in a long, long time. She tried so hard, so hard to be strong. She had had to be, during the years when they were running. And he knew, to protect herself, sometimes she had tried to force herself to be cold, uncaring. But she was never very successful at it. It was always a mask she put on. Nia, despite her prickly exterior, had a natural tendency to compassion, and Dromarch wondered sometimes how much loss could be piled on her before she could break.

Nia walked into the inn's kitchen, and was shocked to see Rex sitting at the table. Normally she woke up well before he did. She could still sense the wound festering deep inside of him, the wound from Malos that she hadn't been able to fully heal yesterday.

Seeing him set a storm of emotions raging in her. She was afraid, so afraid, that Rex would...perceive, somehow, that she could have healed Vandham and had failed to do so. That he'd put two and two together, and know that Vandham's death was all her fault. At the same time, she was utterly furious with him, for endangering his life like he had, all for nothing, so angry it almost made her feel sick. And beneath it all, she wanted...nothing more than to hold him, to heal him, to fix the wound deep inside him as best she could, to take away his pain, even a little, she ached to see him smile, even for a moment.

As she eyed him up and down, she noticed that he was covered in dirt, noticed the exhaustion in his eyes, and put two and two together. In the storm inside her, rage won out, for the moment. "Oh, you damn stubborn idiot," she hissed, narrowing her eyes. "You went out to the burial last night, didn't you? You're just getting in, aren't you?"

Rex said nothing, not looking at her, just staring at the apple and slice of bread in front of him, unable to bring himself to eat, as exhausted physically and emotionally as he was.

"Do you think you're bloody invincible?" Nia snapped, and she hated the way her voice cracked with sadness as she approached him. "You nearly killed yourself during the battle, and now you're going to kill yourself with exhaustion. Fool. Stubborn, stupid fool." Nia felt the rage inside her building. She...cared for this idiot, and damn him, when he didn't take care of himself it made her positively furious.

Rex, for his part, merely sat and accepted Nia's berating in silence. She was mad at him, and he knew why. His stupidity had gotten Vandham killed. He deserved her insults and derision. He wished he had been stronger, for her, for Vandham, for everyone.

Nia reached out to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let me finish up that healing, at least," she muttered, but Rex merely grabbed her hand, removing it from his shoulder. He looked over at her, dark bags beneath his eyes, with such sadness, that Nia froze. Did...did he know? Did he know that Vandham's death was her fault? Had he figured it out? Damn the fool, why would he not let her touch him? Why would he not let her heal him?

"Rex," she called out, as Rex got up, slowly, and staggered his way out of the kitchen. Rex ignored her calls. He couldn't take it, looking at the concern and compassion she still had in her eyes. "REX!" she shouted, stamping her feet, as he slowly climbed the stairs, disappearing from view.

_He knows what you are. He finally figured out what an awful person you are. _

She collapsed at the kitchen table, head in her hands. Her gut roiled with fear. Maybe...maybe he knew. Maybe he knew it was all her fault, and couldn't bear to have her touch him anymore. And suddenly, it was all too much for Nia. Vandham, gone forever. Pyra, gentle Pyra, Pyra who, damn it, she had loved, transformed into the awful, burning harbinger of death. Rex...Rex, who had always made her feel so happy, unable to even let her heal him now. Grief, fear, anger, roiled within her, and she found it difficult to breathe. Her mind went foggy, the world around her seemed to grow dim. It all hurt so much. She had to get away, get away from everyone, from everything. It was all too much to process. Even gentle Dromarch, by her side, didn't bring her any comfort.

_Who says you deserve any comfort, at all? How many people will die because of your failures before you realize that's all you exist for, to inflict misery?_

"My lady?" Dromarch said, questioningly, as she rose, shaking from the table. She looked down at him with...well, with a look he had never seen on her face before. He could feel the turmoil within her through their ether bond, unlike anything he had ever felt within his driver before. "Nia," he said, his voice suddenly full of regal command, "Come. You need to rest. We-"

And suddenly Nia pushed her way past him, darting out the door of the inn. "NIA!" Dromarch roared, out the door.

"What the hell…? What's going on?"

Dromarch glanced back into the inn. Malos stood at the foot of the stairs, eyes narrowed, staring at Dromarch.

"My lady...there's no time. We need to find her." And Dromarch bounded out the door, Malos following him quickly, like a shadow.

Nia dashed through the streets of Fonsa Myma quickly, nimbly vaulting over ledges, leaping down stairways, dashing into alleyways. Just the simple physical act of running, the sensation of her burning lungs, her aching muscles, almost made her feel better, distracting her from the overwhelming storm of emotions within her. But she also knew Dromarch would be following her, and she had to get away as quickly as possible. She...didn't know where she was going. She didn't, in fact, notice much about the world around her. Her head was still in a fog. She only knew that she wanted to get away, as far as possible, from everyone, from everything.

_There's only one way to get far enough away. You know how. But you're too much of a damn coward to give the world that courtesy, either. _

She didn't even notice when she crossed outside of city limits, stumbling into the wilderness outside of Fonsa Myma, the alien forests of beautiful, pink leaves and bioluminescent fungi. She stumbled through ponds of crystal-clear water, cutting her hands on gorgeous but sharp coral growing beneath it.

She stumbled, bloody and dirty, through the wilderness, and she wasn't even really conscious of where she was until a low, dangerous growl finally cut through the fog of her mind, an injection of adrenaline through the funk suddenly restoring clarity to her perception.

She looked up. She was in a small clearing, a break away from the dense alien forest she had been running through, grass that came up past her waist. She could see Fonsa Myma off in the distance, at the top of a long ascent of cliffs and mountainous terrain, the city lights still twinkling in the early morning, and she marveled at how far off it seemed, wondering just how long she had been running in her funk.

But she did not have much time to wonder. In front of her, encircling her, was an entire pack of Vvolf's, all vicious, snarling teeth, mangy gray fur shot through with bright streaks of red, staring at her with flat, hungry eyes. Fear shot through her as she glanced around. There were well over two dozen of them surrounding her. Her hands went to grip her twin rings, but without Dromarch nearby, they'd be next to useless.

_Why fight? Let these creatures do for you what you're too afraid to do yourself. _

Her heart raced as the Vvolf's approached her, snaking through the grass, yipping and snarling. She did have other powers she could draw upon, of course. Her Flesh Eater powers. But as she tried to reach out through the ether to her suppressed Flesh Eater powers, an overwhelming sense of guilt shot through her. She...didn't deserve to use them. She didn't deserve to use those powers to save her own skin, when she had let others die because she had been too afraid to use them. Even as she thought it, she knew it was a stupid way to think, a stupid way to feel. But regardless, she couldn't bring herself to use her Flesh Eater powers, couldn't power her way through the overwhelming sense of guilt.

_You'll thank me for that, in the end. _

She stepped back in panic as the Vvolf's drew closer to her, cursing her foolishness, cursing herself for losing control. She prepared herself to fight tooth and claw as the hungry beasts grew closer, and closer, braver and braver, until with a roar, one of them leapt at her-

And with an awful, hissing howl, erupted with black flame in midair. And suddenly, where the Vvolf had been, it wasn't, not even a trace of it left behind.

Nia looked up, out across the field, as the Vvolf's milled about in confusion. There, striding across the field, looking purposeful, looking furious, was Malos, sword held out at his side. He shot her a dark glare of irritation, then extended one clawed gauntlet, clenching it. There was a small, high-pitched whine that built up for a few moments, and then in the middle of the Vvolf pack, a globe of dark flame expanded out with a roar, consuming a few of the beasts, leaving a perfect half-sphere crater carved into the ground.

The remaining vvolf's scattered in confusion and panic, whining, yipping and snapping at each other. Malos casually skewered one who rushed at him in panic, yanking its body off his sword and tossing it away, never breaking stride as he stomped toward her. She turned around to run again, but Malos dashed forward, grabbing her by her arm, nearly yanking her off the ground. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he snarled. "What do you think you're doing, running off on your own? Without Dromarch, without anyone? Do you want to get yourself killed?"

And then Nia glanced back at him with eyes large and full of tears, and Malos paused. "Oh, it had to be you, of course, damn it," Nia said miserably, as tears began flowing down her face. She scrubbed at them furiously, unable to make them stop. "Don't you look at me, don't you dare look at me," she gasped yanking her arm free of his grip, hiding her face in her hands.

Malos softened, sighing, as the girl wept into her hands, trying and failing to stop the tears. He sat down on a nearby rock, quiet for a few moments, sticking his sword into the ground. "I hadn't thought losing Vandham would hit you this hard," he mused.

"It's not just that," Nia snapped at him irritably, sitting down beside him.

"Then what is it?"

Nia glared up at him, baring her fangs. "Wouldn't you know? Wouldn't you, of all people, know? I….I could have saved him. And I didn't. Because I'm a damn useless coward." She leaned forward, holding her head in her hands. "What if...Rex finds out? What if he's already figured it out?"

And Malos mused, not for the first or last time, what an odd thing human and blade's self-image was. How the way you thought of yourself could be so vastly different from the way other people thought of you. So much so that you began to feel like an impostor, convinced that the hate you had for yourself was something everyone should feel.

"It's my fault," Nia was muttering to herself. "It's my fault he's dead. I-"

"Oh, would you give it a rest," Malos snapped. Nia glanced up at him, surprised. The Dark Aegis softened his tone again. "Look, Nia. Think of it this way. I _know _that you could have saved him, right? And yet...it didn't even occur to me to blame you for it. Nobody else even thinks you could have saved him, after Mythra stuck her sword in him. But even if they did think it, they wouldn't have blamed you for failing."

"But if they ever find out...if they ever find out I'm a..."

Malos rolled his eyes. "Look. I've read up on my history a bit. I...don't blame you for being reluctant to reveal what you are. With the way Indol has hunted down Flesh Eaters...but if you think anyone would blame you, look, I don't know what to tell you. You're a moron. There's one person who is guilty for Vandham's death, and that's Mythra."

Nia was silent for a long moment. She looked up at the Dark Aegis, who stared out across the field with hard, emotionless eyes. "Rex...won't let me heal him," she said, quietly. She wanted to be angry at Malos for Rex's current condition, but she couldn't bring herself to be. She knew that, for once, he was blameless. Rex, damn fool that he was, had been the one to draw too much of Malos' power. "What if...he knows now? What if he hates me for it…?"

Malos sighed. "Man. Humans sure can be dumb sometimes." He glanced down at Nia, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I take that back. Humans _and _blades. Look, I don't have the sort of...emotional connection to Rex, that other blades have with their drivers. I can't tell you how he's feeling, or what's on his mind. But it's obvious to everyone that he cares about you, a lot. I am pretty damn skeptical that he blames you for it."

Nia was quiet again, for another long moment, watching the wind blow the grass in gentle waves around them. "Malos," she said suddenly. "Are..._you _okay?"

Malos looked down at her in surprise, saying nothing.

"It's just that...it seemed like you knew Jin..I dunno how you guys got along, all those years ago..." Nia paused, her ears flat against her head. "It's just that..."

"Jin..." Malos said quietly, his voice full of regret. "I...don't know what happened to him. But if he's with Mythra now, he's a traitor of the worst kind. It is what it is." He shrugged, pushing thoughts of Jin out of his mind. None of them...none of them mattered. "Guess five hundred years can really change someone. Ah well."

Nia looked up at Malos with something approaching admiration. She hated to admit it...but that sort of cavalier detachment was something she wished she could have in herself. She wished it didn't break her heart that Pyra...Mythra...turned out to be the way she was. That the gentle woman who had cooked for her, given her warm smiles, treated her like a kid sister, had turned out to be a bloody murderer.

"Ach," she said suddenly. "This is so embarrassing. I feel like a damn fool having run out here."

"You are a damn fool."

"Oh, you really know how to comfort someone, don't you. Did ah...did Dromarch follow you out here?"

Malos got up, brushing dust off his legs. "Yeah. He went looking in another direction, though. Why don't we get going back?"

"Yeah," Nia said quietly, getting up, wincing. She had run for so long, and now a deep, burning ache had settled into her legs after her pause. "Let's just...take it slow, okay? I'm a little tired-"

"Oh, I don't think so," Malos snapped at her. "I missed breakfast to go out running after your silly ass. I'm not spending all day walking back. Come here."

"What are you-hey, back off-"

"Shut up."

"Put me down! Titan's arse, this is humiliating," Nia said miserably, as Malos hoisted her up, piggyback style, and set off at a brisk sprint, bounding across the terrain, racing back towards Fonsa Myma.

They were nearly all the way back, perhaps a mile off from the gates, when Dromarch appeared, bounding after them, appearing as if magic from the forest lining the road. Malos, barely even out of breath, set Nia down to talk to him as he drew close.

"Ah," Nia said, bashfully, as her blade drew close. "Dromarch, sorry-"

Dromarch roared at her in response, and Nia gasped in shock. She had never seen her blade so angry with her, so savage in his reaction to her. Dromarch paced around her, in frustration, tail flicking irritably, an occasional growl rumbling from deep within him. Finally, he seemed to calm down a bit, sitting down regally, licking one of his paws, before, with a huff, addressing her. "My lady," he said, fighting to keep his voice under control, "That was...an incredibly inconsiderate stunt you pulled. I am your blade. It is…._everything _to me, to protect you. Do you have any idea how this made me feel…?"

Nia felt her heart sink. She really did take Dromarch for granted, sometimes. And she knew...exactly how awful it would feel for a blade to lose their driver like that. "Oh...Dromarch, I'm sorry," she murmured, reaching out to pet him, but with a huff, he drew back before her hands could reach him.

Dromarch returned to his irritated pacing around her. "I have...always tried to respect your desire for independence," he mused. "But I swear to you, my lady. If you try something like that ever again...I will chase you down, and drag you back by the scruff of your neck like a wayward kitten."

"Ooh, I'd like to see that," Malos said.

"That's...fair," Nia replied.

Dromarch harrumphed, then growled, paced around her a bit more, flicking his tail, and finally settled down in front of her. "My lady may pet me, if she likes," he said airily.

Nia sank her hands into his thick fur, giving a rueful smile when Dromarch finally purred for her again, then climbed onto his back for the rest of the journey back to Fonsa Myma.

**3.**

Over the next few days, everyone visited Vandham's grave on their own schedule, on their own terms. It was hard to schedule a time for everyone to visit his grave at once. Rex seemed to be avoiding everyone, and Nia was still avoiding Rex, so for the most part everyone was left to cope with their grief in their own way.

Tora had been...observing Poppi. His artificial blade had seemed particularly impacted by Vandham's death. It made sense, in a way. It was the first time Poppi was ever dealing with death in a personal way, close to her. Maybe before now, she had not even truly understood what death was. It was hard for Tora to say. It was his grandfather, SooSoo, who had done a majority of the groundwork on her AI systems. Tora had followed her around, discretely taking notes on her grieving process, but soon found he did not have the heart for it.

This was...not how real blades and drivers interacted, after all. Real drivers didn't follow their blades around just taking notes when they were sad. Real drivers and blades shared a deep connection. A real driver would talk to his blade, comfort his blade, when she was feeling such deep loss.

But...what could Tora say to Poppi? Tora had his own guilt. He had made Vandham the device that he had used to trap Jin. If he hadn't...if Tora hadn't helped Vandham...maybe Pyra would have never gotten so mad at him. Maybe she wouldn't have struck him down. Surely Poppi had thought of this too. And she seemed so upset, so sad about Vandham's death. Perhaps she blamed Tora for it, as well?

It was during another visit to Vandham's grave that Tora mustered up the courage to speak to her. She was kneeling before Vandham's tombstone, when the nopon put down his notebook, and bounced over to her. He sighed heavily, and Poppi glanced over at him in surprise, orange eyes glowing.

"Poppi," Tora began, with some trepidation, pausing, and then steeling himself. "Tora is...sorry."

"What is masterpon sorry for…?"

"Tora knows….Vandham was very special to Poppi." He twiddled his wings together anxiously. "Tora is very best artificial blade maker in the world. Nobody have knowledge Tora has. Nobody has design skill Tora has. Tora is unmitigated genius."

Poppi sighed, wearily. "Masterpon is truly the greatest, yes," she said unenthusiastically.

"But...Tora is probably not very good driver." Tora shook his head ruefully, his small black eyes filling with tears as he stared at Vandham's grave. "And Poppi...can have ether bond with anyone. Tora knows what Poppi is thinking. If Poppi had been blade of someone else….even if Poppi had been alone! If Poppi had not had to bother worrying about masterpon during battle, maybe Vandham...would still be alive." Tora wiped tears away from his eyes, then pulled his goggles down over his face to disguise his grief. "Tora understands if Poppi not like him very much anymore. Poppi probably better off as blade of someone else, yes? Tora...will just follow, and make repairs, and Poppi can fight beside someone more competent. Is better this way, yes yes. Battle not a game. People...die. Tora so sorry-"

And then he stopped as Poppi flung her arms around him, squeezing him tight. "P-poppi?" he said, questioningly.

"How could Poppi's masterpon say such terrible things," Poppi said, her voice thick with sadness, muffled by his fur, as she buried her face into him. "Is true. Masterpon have many flaws. Masterpon is arrogant. He have no common sense. Masterpon like tiny dresses probably more than is healthy. Masterpon is lazy and does not maintain hygiene. Masterpon could stand to lose some weight."

"Wait, what Poppi say about hygiene…?" Tora said, sniffing himself.

"But masterpon care for Poppi like no one else," the small robot girl continued. "He always making sure Poppi is upgraded, and repaired, and maintained. Nobody else knows Poppi like masterpon. And protecting masterpon is the most important thing in the world to Poppi. Masterpon is the most important person in the world to Poppi. Poppi does not blame masterpon for...beautiful sweet Vandham dying," she said, choking on the words. "How could masterpon think this? Masterpon foolish, foolish, foolish."

Tora felt his heart swelling up with joy and grief at the same time. "But," Tora said quietly, "Your masterpon...he was not good enough in important battle. If Poppi..."

Poppi leaned back, and placed one cold metallic finger on Tora's mouth. "Hush," she said, harshly. "There is no one in the world Poppi would rather fight beside than masterpon. Has Poppi not made this clear? Masterpon can be so stubborn."

Tora was quiet for a moment, as Poppi sighed and leaned back on her hands, staring up at the sky. "Poppi has become...more mature, Tora thinks."

"Is true," Poppi said wistfully, staring off into the setting sun over the cloud sea, and the long, lazily waving tail of the Urayan Titan. "Poppi has lost some of her innocence. Poppi is wiser about harsh reality of world."

"Still," Tora replied, "Tora never wants to feel...like he could not do enough in battle ever again."

Poppi glanced down at him. "Poppi never wants to feel like that again either."

Tora pounded one tiny fist into the other. "Then it is settled. Tora and Poppi must train together more and more. Must become more and more in-sync."

Poppi nodded, determined. "Yes. Poppi agree. Must widen ether connection. Two hearts, must fight as one!"

"Must show these humans that just because Tora is nopon, does not mean he cannot be fierce warrior," Tora growled, bearing his tiny fangs. "There have been many legendary warrior nopon! Heropon Riki! Legendary Pirate-Merchant Bana! Tales of their ferocity in battle, far exceed any silly human legend about Aegis or whatever!"

Poppi leapt to her feet in excitement. "Yes! And Poppi already have strength of twenty men. Masterpon's upgrades could only make her stronger and stronger! Poppi and masterpon could become most legendary, fearsome warriors in history, if they put their minds to it!"

"Yes! Yes yes! YES!" Tora shouted, dashing over to where he had laid down his notebook, tripping over himself in his excitement to reach it. "Tora's mind is inspired. Tora knows of a thousand design improvements that could be made on Poppi! Why Tora wait? Why Tora put it off! Tora will begin on upgrade process now! Tora and Poppi become unstoppable duo whose names echo through the ages! And then…." Tora glanced at Vandham's grave, and laughed through the tears. "And then no friends ever have to die in battle ever again."

Poppi gave a bitter smile. "Masterpon...Poppi think this is best idea we ever have."

She walked over to him, approaching the small Nopon as he scribbled furiously in his notebook, and held out one metallic hand. Tora took it, still engrossed in his designs, holding his notebook in one hand and writing in it with his wings, as he and Poppi walked hand in hand back towards the inn in the dimming light of day.

"Masterpon," Poppi said quietly, as they walked. "Can Poppi make one small request about future designs?"

"Yes? What is it?"

The small robot pointed to her face, where an 'X' in the shape of Vandham's scar still decorated her face in dried paint. "Any future design of Poppi, can...masterpon make Poppi's battle paint permanent? Poppi...does not think it was ever very effective at scaring enemies. But Poppi would like to remember Vandham." She looked up at the emerging stars in the night sky, winking at her, closing her eyes for a moment. "Like to remember him...forever. Someone should."

Tora closed his notebook, finally. "Yes," he said quietly. "Yes Poppi. Your masterpon can do that."

**4.**

With Rex still avoiding everyone, and the other, younger members of the group, Tora and Nia, dealing with their grief int heir own foolish ways, Morag, Brighid and Malos found themselves spending more time together again, as the remaining 'adult' members of the group. They had gathered at Vandham's grave, standing around gravely, stoic, grim. Cole was there, as well as Iona, who was weeping openly, unrestrained, in the way that only a child ever felt comfortable doing. Morag and Brighid were still in their uniforms that Vandham had given them as disguises, trussed up as soldiers and mercenaries.

"It's...strange, isn't it," Brighid mused. Morag glanced over at her blade, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "Vandham gets a grave," Brighid continued. "But Roc...the Roc I knew, the Roc I talked with, the Roc I discussed exotic weapons with...we even tried coming up with some new designs, you know...that Roc...he's as gone as Vandham is. He's never coming back. And yet, he gets no grave." Brighid shook his head. "I wonder. If we wake him again...will we have the same conversations? Will they just seem old to me, now? Will he even have the same opinions? Or will some small experience he had with Vandham have changed his opinions completely from the ones he'll have if we were to wake him with us? If that's the case...is he really the same person? Or is that Roc...just dead, like Vandham is?" Brighid shook her head ruefully. "Ah. Listen to me, getting philosophical."

"We could...give him a grave of his own, if you'd like," Morag offered.

"Oh, it's not really necessary," Brighid replied, after a moment. "After all...how many times have _I _died, in Mor Ardain's long history? Was I a completely new person, every time I was re-awoken? Aegaeon, too? And yet did any of those...previous versions of me, ever get a grave?" Brighid shrugged, then glanced at Malos. "As the Aegis is so fond of saying, it is what it is."

Malos was busy chatting with Cole, catching up as much as he could on filling in some blanks from his past. Cole's cough was gone, and he was looking healthier by the day. Before the battle with Mythra, Obrona had paid him a visit – knocking him out, and yet manipulating his ether flows to restore his health. Pyra had, through it all, kept her promise to Iona.

Iona herself was inconsolable. She was glad that her grandfather's health was restored, but she was yet another person blaming herself for Vandham's death. If she hadn't put herself in harm's way, he'd still be alive. She wept bitterly at his grave, harsh, wracking sobs. Nothing Morag, or Brighid, or Cole had been able to say to her had been able to console her. But she was a child. There was nothing to do but to let her grieve, and once she had dealt with the grief, try to comfort her. Children...could recover from these things rather well. It was adults who carried the scars with them for life, if they let the wounds fester.

Cole broke off from conversation with Malos, approaching Morag. "Malos tells me you're...someone of some import, in Mor Ardain," he said.

"Well, so much for discretion," Morag said quietly, glancing at the Aegis.

He shrugged at her. "Hey. Cole's trustworthy enough. He's not going to turn you in to the Queen, at least."

Morag sighed, turning to Cole. "Yes. I am."

Cole raised an eyebrow at her. "And how long has it been...since you've been there?"

"I've been on deployment, and then following the Aegis, for quite a while. I suppose it's been close to six months now. I've been hoping to talk to you, since you've been to Mor Ardain recently...what you think..." Morag paused, considering, then continued. "...what you think of the chances of stopping the war."

Cole was quiet for a long moment. He crossed his arms, gazing at Vandham's grave, scratching his chin. Just when Morag thought he wasn't going to give an answer, he spoke up. "Perhaps...you don't know, having grown up there," he said quietly. "But Mor Ardain...is really not like anywhere else in the world. I've often wondered if it's cultural...or even biological, or some mysterious ether flow effect. But there's an energy in Mor Ardain, that beats through the whole empire. Almost like a song, a symphony." He laughed, ruefully. "Of course, as an artist I'd describe it in terms like that. But do you understand? There's energy there. Something there that's not anywhere else. Something you can feel just by being in the streets of the city."

"Yes," Morag replied, utterly serious. "I understand completely."

"I went there," Cole continued, "To try to convince people that the war would not be worth it. But...something's changed there recently. Notes….in the symphony of the empire...dark hues that have always been there...have...gah, I wish I had a better way to describe it." He sighed, then began again. "For a long, long time now...there have been...two sides to Mor Ardain. The strong, honorable, beautiful Mor Ardain, the Empire whose pride and strength have been an example to follow. And...the Clockwork Demon. And they've...never been separable. They are intrinsically part of each other. And they've...fought each other, in waves, for the soul of Mor Ardain. When the Empire is winning, Mor Ardain is a place of beauty. When the Clockwork Demon wins, Mor Ardain is a conqueror, an exterminator, an annihilator, a warmonger. And they've been fighting forever."

"Is there a point to all this?" Brighid asked.

Cole stared at her. "What I saw there, over the past few months," he said quietly, "Makes me think...the Clockwork Demon finally won." He looked over to Morag. "I hope...you can do what you can to make the beauty in Mor Ardain win again. But I...I got the feeling I was watching a tragedy in its final act, when I was there."

Morag was quiet, staring at Vandham's grave. Could she ever bring herself, to fight against Urayans, now, knowing that their most powerful driver had sacrificed himself, to help save her? Could she possibly help her homeland in its conquest with that guilt hanging over her? Could she even….begin to allow it? Vandham had been...so beautiful, in his last moments. Such amazing skill, such incredible technique….a warrior of the kind this world would probably not see again for centuries. Dead for honor, for valor's sake, for the love of friends. Which had included her. She felt tears rising to her eyes, and fought them down. Damn the man, why had he had to die? It would have been...such an honor, to fight at his side.

And she knew the answer, then. She could never, never fight against Vandham's homeland. Not when he had given himself so sincerely, so selflessly. Not when he had fought with such honor. She could not, with any pride or honor, help in the conquest of a homeland whom she had helped rob of its greatest warrior. If she couldn't stop the war, she couldn't participate in it and live with the stain of dishonor it would place upon her.

"Malos?" she heard a familiar voice call, suddenly.

Cole, Malos, Brighid and Morag turned around, to see Yew, Vandham's Ardainian second-in-command, at the top of the stairs, his blade at his side. As he approached, Morag noted the limp he walked with, the bruises and cuts upon his face. "Cole, nice seeing you," he said, nodding at him. "Morag. Brighid." Then he looked at Vandham's grave, and his smile took on a note of sadness. "Hey, boss," he murmured. He slurred a bit, seeming at least mildly drunk – or perhaps suffering from some sort of concussion.

"Architect, Yew, what happened to you?" Cole gasped, rushing to his side. "Look at you, you look beat to hell."

Yew shrugged cavalierly. "Well. Word reached the Garfont mercenaries a few days ago of Vandham's death. Zuo, he, well..." Yew glanced in Morag's direction - "he blamed...certain friends of ours. He proposed ending the neutral stance Vandham worked so hard to keep. It….blew up into a big row. It..." and here, his cavalier facade fell, and he addressed the gravestone directly. "I'm sorry, boss. I tried my damndest to keep the group together. But it ended up with Zuo kicking out all Ardainian members, and pledging allegiance to Queen Raqura in the war effort."

"So...what does that mean? The Garfont mercenaries work for the government now?" Cole asked, after a moment of silence.

Yew spat, tinged with blood. "Nah. It means the Garfont mercs don't even exist anymore, not really. Oh, Zuo might keep the name, but the spirit of the group...too many members left, too many got kicked out, too much bad blood left in the remains. Garfont mercs are done." He shook his head mournfully. "What a damn failure, I am. Couldn't even keep Vandham's legacy going two days after his death. What damn mess. Zuo's goons gave me a good beating, and I hoofed it here to Fonsa Myma as fast as I could. Zuo's planning on mustering up camp and marching his boys here, have them live in the Queen's barracks. Not even mercenaries at that point, if you ask me. Might as well call yourself soldiers."

Morag felt her heart sink into her stomach. "When do you think they'll be here?"

Yew glanced over at her. "Ah, yeah. You probably don't want to be around when Zuo gets here, huh. He's liable to point you out to the Queen's boys." He shrugged. "Well, me and the other...ah, dissenters, really gave him hell. He's got a lot of cleaning up to do, probably won't be here for another few weeks."

Morag tried not to think of the idyllic village they had spent so much of their time in, the scene of a small civil war, strewn with bodies, friends killing friends. Everything beautiful really was so transient in nature.

Yew strode forward, uncorking a bottle of wine, pouring it over Vandham's grave. "One last toast to you, boss," he said wistfully. He pulled out a small cigarette, lighting it, blowing smoke into the evening air. "I probably don't want to be here myself, when Zuo gets here," he said quietly.

To Morag's surprise, it was Malos who spoke up. "Why don't you come with us?" the Dark Aegis said. "We're headed to Indol eventually, but..." and here he looked at Morag. "We're probably going to make a stop in Mor Ardain, first."

"Well, well, look who does have some sympathy in him after all," Brighid said quietly, so that only Morag could hear.

Yew took a long drag from his cigarette. "Travel with the Aegis, the Jewel of Mor Ardain, on their journey to Elysium," he mused. "Hah! Nah. Thanks for the offer, but...I'm not the kind of guy who shows up in storybooks." He gazed out at the horizon, behind Uraya's tail, a small smile playing on his face. "I'm a wanderer. Spent too much time here, anyway. I'll find someplace new. Maybe even start my own merc group one day, try to keep Vandham's vision alive. But some grand quest for Elysium?" He flicked his cigarette away, smiling ruefully. "Sorry. Vandham might have believed in it, and I'll always respect the hell out of the boss. But as far as I'm concerned, that's for suckers."

**5.**

Morag lingered at the door to the inn's kitchen. Nia was in there, alone, sullenly munching on an apple that she was slicing with one of her daggers.

It was Brighid that had told her that she ought to talk to Nia. Morag was more than happy to talk to the girl, who she thought was probably far more troubled than she let on, as long as Nia wanted to talk. But Brighid had told her that she ought to take the initiative, and be the one to talk to her first. She had said. Rex, she said, had Malos as an older man to talk to. Nia needed an older woman, to give her advice. Morag could see how having someone older and wiser to talk to could be beneficial. She didn't really see how the gender of that person mattered. But Brighid had insisted that a young girl could benefit from having an older woman to talk to, specifically, just as a young man might benefit from having an older man to look up to.

Morag wasn't quite sure. Nia didn't seem like the type who...looked up to anyone. She might be young, but she seemed fiercely independent. Probably more than was actually good for her. But the girl had seemed morose, almost as much as Rex, who still refused, steadfastly, to talk to anyone, and who was still gone from the inn much of the time. Malos really ought to be the one to talk to Rex, but the Dark Aegis had insisted that he had no patience for this sort of thing. "Rex can talk to me," he said, airily, "when he stops being such a child." Morag thought this unnecessarily harsh. But then again, sometimes men...did seem a bit odd to her. Sometimes they seemed to cherish what seemed to her like cruelty from their role models. She had led enough men in battle to admit to herself that they definitely did seem like an alien gender, sometimes. Perhaps Brighid had a bit of a point about Nia needing an older woman in particular to talk to. Of course, it could have been Brighid herself, but her blade had insisted that Nia and Morag probably had more in common.

Well, now was as good a time as any. Morag walked calmly into the kitchen, taking a seat across from Nia. The girl glanced up at her, before slicing another larger hunk from her apple and popping it into her mouth. Morag struggled to come up with a way to broach the subject. "So," she said casually, "I hear you, ah, ran off alone into the forest the other day."

Nia's eyes widened, and she slammed her dagger into the table. "Right! Who told you? I told Malos and Dromarch not to tell anyone, the bastards. The absolute bastards. Oh, I am gonna skin them alive, I swear. Out with it! Who was it?!"

Morag held up her hands in shock. "Actually, it was Brighid who told me. I don't know who she heard it from."

Nia's face reddened. "Cor, how many people know about this? Titan's foot. One person knows one little secret, and it spreads like wildfire."

"Would you like to tell me why you ran off?"

Nia looked Morag up and down, considering, then pried her dagger from the table, slicing off another chunk of apple to toss into her mouth. "No," she said airily.

Morag was quiet for a moment, then decided to soldier on. "This would be," she said quietly, "the second time you've wandered off on your own, in a funk."

Nia paused in the middle of chewing her apple, and Morag had to admire how much the young girl could make a simple silence seem deadly.

"I've seen this sort of thing before," Morag continued. "In soldiers. Soldiers that have been on the field for too long. Seen too much death. Seen too many friends die. Soldiers who have been through too much pain for one mind to take. Who are feeling survivor's guilt. Who have no one to talk to. In Mor Ardain, we worry about those sorts of soldiers."

"Oh don't worry about me," Nia replied, her voice low. "I'm not gonna...endanger the mission, or whatever. I promise I won't be a burden."

"We don't worry about them because of that. We worry about them because those soldiers end up killing themselves a lot."

Nia froze, as if struck. Morag reached out across the table to squeeze her hand. The Gormotti girl looked up at her with wild, wide eyes, an edge of panic to them.

"I've seen a lot of death," Morag said, her voice calm. "If you need someone to talk to about it, I'm the person to come to."

Nia slowly swallowed the hunk of apple she had been chewing on, and then paused. "What if I told you," she said, slowly, "That I could have saved Vandham? That I could have, and I didn't, because I was too damn slow. Because I….I was scared. And don't give me this any of the usual, 'Oh you couldn't have saved him, it's not your fault', bull. I know, for certain, I could have, and I failed. He's dead because I was a coward."

Morag paused for a moment, considering this. She didn't see how Nia could have possibly, realistically have saved Vandham. But the important thing was, the girl clearly believed that she could have. And that was what mattered.

"Let's say," Morag said, slowly, "You're exactly right. You could have saved him. No...no bull. You could have saved him, and you bear responsibility for that." Morag drew back, and spread her hands. "Well...we all do. I feel the same thing. If only I had fought harder, I could have saved him."

"It's not the same," Nia began, but Morag held up her hand, stopping her.

"And why would it not be the same? It's exactly as true. If I had been smarter, if I had been faster, if I had been stronger, if I had taken the battle more seriously, if I had considered every possibility, I could have saved him. I can tell you, Brighid feels the same way. And if I had to guess, Tora and Poppi do, as well. Rex...if I had to guess why he's been so isolated, this is what's bothering him. It was because of him that Vandham was there at all. Malos...well...Malos is Malos. Who knows how he feels about it. And we are all, one hundred percent correct. We all failed. We all failed Vandham. You aren't alone in this. In war, the living always fail the dead. The living are always guilty. You aren't unique, or alone, in this. We all could have done better, we all could have done more, and because we didn't, someone lost their life."

"So..." Nia replied, hiding the tremble in her voice, "That's why I should feel better? I'm not uniquely bad? We're all terrible garbage, so it doesn't matter if I am too?"

"No. None of us are garbage. Do you think so? Do you think that I'm garbage? Or Rex, or Tora?"

"No. Of course not."

"And yet we all failed, as you did. You aren't garbage, or terrible, any more than anyone else is. You're human. And the reality of war is that it takes human mistakes, human weaknesses, and magnifies the consequences of them. A rice farmer making a small error in judgment loses some rice. A soldier making a small error in judgment has to see his friends die. And a general who makes a small error in judgment loses thousands of lives." As she said it, Morag realized she was seeing the truth of this for the first time, herself. "War makes the cost of being human unbearable."

Nia sat, considering this for a moment. "Even if I tell myself this," she replied finally, "It...doesn't change the way I feel. I still feel so much guilt. I still feel...like I deserve to..." she trailed off, saying nothing.

"Of course. There's no magic words anyone can say to change the way you feel. The heart and the head don't always agree. But what you know to be true in your head...well, it eventually makes its way down to your heart."

Nia toyed with the dagger in her hands. "Rex won't let me heal him," she said suddenly. "I don't suppose you know why that is?"

Morag shook her head. "You'd have to ask him yourself. I haven't spoken to him."

Nia's ears perked up suddenly. "Has...has anyone at all, spoken to Rex? Since Vandham died?"

"I...don't suppose anyone has. He's been avoiding everyone. I assumed he wanted to be alone."

"So?" Nia snapped, rising to her feet. "I wanted to be alone...but...it was...still a good thing that you came and talked to me." She shrugged, playing it off. "You know. So...thanks."

"Where are you going now?" Morag asked, as Nia walked away. 

"I'm gonna go talk to Rex, and get that damn fool to let me heal him."

"Nia?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe put the dagger away, first."

Nia looked down at the blade clenched in her fist. "Oh. Right."

**6.**

Nia had a bit of a difficult time finding Rex. He had gotten pretty good at avoiding everyone, rising early in the morning before anyone woke, and not returning until very late at night. She thought that he might be at Vandham's grave, but he hadn't been. She wandered the streets of the city for a while, but she didn't think Rex seemed like the type to want to socialize with strangers in the middle of his grief. So she wandered closer to the edges of the city, to the extensive gromrice fields. It was there she found him, in the middle of one field, isolated, not a soul in sight, sitting beneath a tree growing from the middle of the field, a large weeping willow covered with thick, purple petals.

He sat beneath it, in the shade cast by its umbrella-like canopy, the sword Vandham had given him across his knees, staring into the sky. Nia approached him with some trepidation. She had Malos and Morag's words to bolster her, but still...he had been avoiding her. She couldn't help but worry, in her secret heart, if he blamed her, and hated her for it now. And the thought of Rex hating her...the possibility worried her so much, she realized with a start, because it was more than she could bear.

He didn't hear her as she approached, or didn't care, only lowering his gaze to look at her with a start once she got within ten feet. His eyes had dark circles beneath him, and as she reached through the ether, Nia could feel the wound in him, and she marveled at his strength. How the hell could he stand to live with the pain he was feeling?

The sight of him in so much self-inflicted pain was making her fury rise, again, and she struggled to keep her voice somewhat gentle. "Don't you go running from me, this time," she murmured. She came and sat next to him, back against the tree. Rex was silent, looking upward at the sky. Nia looked up at the same direction he was. She summoned her courage. "So, why won't you let me heal you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Rex said, without looking at her. Nia felt her heart hammer in her chest. "I don't deserve it. Not after my stupid decisions got Vandham killed."

For a moment, what Rex said shook Nia to her core. It was a knife going straight through her heart. Rex was blaming himself for something that was her fault. It was her fault that Vandham had died, and yet this poor boy was taking the responsibility on himself. But in the next moment, she couldn't help but laugh.

"What...what is it? What's so funny?" Rex asked, glancing over at her.

Nia sighed, mirthfully. "Come here. Come here, you sweet idiot," she said, pulling Rex closer to her, until they were both leaning against each other. She wrapped her arms around one of his, pouring healing into him as they talked. "Although I guess we're both idiots. I thought you didn't want me to heal you...because you blamed me."

"Wha? Why would I do that?"

"Because..." Nia paused. "Because I...could have healed him. If I was quicker. If I hadn't been so scared. I could have saved him. Trust me, I could have. I bought you back from the edge. I could have done it for him. But I was too damn slow. Too...afraid."

"What?" Rex shook his head. "Nia, what are you, mad? You think I'm gonna blame you for not being perfect? Architect. You really are an idiot. What a silly thing to think."

"Oh! Look who's talking! You think _I _blame _you _for the same damn thing! Because you didn't somehow peer into the future and know exactly what was gonna happen!" Nia shook her head. "And then you went off on your own to stew in your own guilt. Boys, I swear. Nobody blames you for it, you moron."

"But...you were so angry at me. If not for that, then for what…?"

Nia squeezed is hand, hard, with her own. "Because...you damn oaf, because you went and hurt yourself again. I know it wasn't even Malos this time. It was you, drawing on his power. Getting yourself half-killed and then refusing to let me heal you. I'm still mad at you for that, by the way. Absolutely furious, actually."

Rex sighed, looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly. "It's just...after I saw Vandham dead, I...completely lost it. I was so angry, angrier than I've ever been in my life. I couldn't control myself. I just wanted to see her suffer for it. I know I probably bit off more than I could chew."

Nia laid her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes. "I...I suppose...I understand. But damn it, Rex, please take better care of yourself. You don't know how it feels to see you hurt yourself. I care about you, probably against my better judgment. Don't...toy with my heart like that."

Rex was quiet for a moment, then chuckled to himself. "So. You thought I blamed you, and I thought you blamed me, so we both spent the past week completely avoiding each other."

"You see why it's so funny?"

And they put their heads together and laughed, laughed in their grief, laughed in their sadness, their loss echoing through the laughter, falling into each other more and more, until they were laughing while embracing each other, some of the laughter hiding tears.

Nia could feel Rex's heart pounding in his chest, pressed up against hers, and it felt...nice, having his warms wrapped around her, comforting. Just as it felt nice, almost like a relief, to finally be able to heal him, to finally be able to mend that wound deep within him that he had let fester all week. She felt like she understood this damn fool more than she ever had before, and...what a sweet soul he had, deep down.

"I'm gonna miss him," Rex whispered, his face buried in her hair, and it was like she could feel his grief echo through her, too. "He….he should have been able to come with us. To Elysium." She squeezed him tighter, in response, and felt a bolt of comfort echo through her.

And they stayed like that for hours, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing their grief, sharing their comfort, until the sun began to go down, until Nia had finally healed Rex, until she could no longer feel the hole he had torn inside himself with Malos' power, listening to each other breathe, feeling the pounding of each other's hearts, taking simple comfort in there being someone else to touch, to lean upon, to share warmth with.

Finally, when it was nearly dark, Rex finally lifted his head. "I suppose we should be getting back," he said, quietly.

"Mmm," Nia murmured, still pressed against his chest. "You're nice and warm. And so comfortable. Let's just sleep here." She was exhausted from the exertion of healing him, but also from the simple mental and emotional exertion of the past week.

"No, no, we can't. They open up the canals early in the morning, and these fields get flooded. We'd get all wet before the sun even rose."

She groaned in irritation. She really didn't want to get up. "Oh, couldn't you have chosen a better place for your alone time," she snapped. "It feels...so comfortable..." she yawned, stretching out against him. Rex extricated himself from her, delicately. She really was like a cat, in some ways. He got up and stretched, his back cracking.

Nia curled on the ground next to him, glancing up at him. And gasped in shock. There was a dim golden cord extending from her to Rex. With a yelp, she concentrated, reaching out through the ether and severing the connection, vanishing the cord before Rex could notice.

He glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow. "What was that?"

Nia got to her feet, the adrenaline pumping through her system clearing her of fatigue. "It was...nothing. Let's get back to the inn."

Nia stared at Rex in the light of dusk, as they made their way, slowly, back to the inn. She had...reached out to bond with him without even noticing. A dim ether bond, a weak ether bond, true. But an ether bond nonetheless, as she had laughed in his arms. And...it had felt so comfortable. More comfortable than anything she had felt in a long, long time. Part of her had severed the bond in shock. But part of her...had wanted that bond to remain. Rex made her...happy, comfortable. Rex made the voice in her go quiet. And...if she was being honest, part of her cried out for a driver. She was a blade, and blades...were meant to share their lives with someone. Meant to protect someone.

Her thoughts drifted back to what Vandham had said to her, the night before the fateful battle. That between the two of them, they could take care of Rex, make sure he didn't do anything too stupid. Well, Vandham was gone now. But Nia supposed that she could honor his memory by being the one to stay by Rex's side and watch after him.

Finally, in the dark of night, they approached the inn. It had just recently fallen dark, and looking through the window, Rex could see roaring fire in the fireplace, and a few figures milling about the common space of the inn, people he had been avoiding for the past week. He sighed, drawing in a breath, turning to Nia. It was going to be….a bit embarrassing, to face them. Especially-

"Well, well," said Malos, melting into being from the shadows beside the door. Rex glanced up in shock. Malos was a mere foot from him. He had been certain nobody was there a moment before. "Look who's decided to come back. You got it all out of your system?" The Dark Aegis nodded in thanks, to Nia. "I knew you'd be the one to snap him out of this stupid funk. Thanks, Nia."

Rex crossed his arms, looking away. "Yeah. You know, you could have come talk to me too, Malos. Might have helped."

"Rex, you can talk to me about lots of things. Cool technology, battle tactics, the Void. Hell, I don't even mind discussing how you're feeling when your feelings at least make some sense. But when I think you're being a _complete_ idiot about them?" Malos rolled his eyes. "No. I've got no patience for it. Nia here can be the Mopey Rex cleanup crew. Go team Rex, right?"

Nia snorted. "It isn't cleanup. Although...you were kind of being an idiot, Rex."

Rex held up his hands. "Hey. I don't think I like this team's dynamics. You can't both be calling me an idiot." Laughing, he headed into the inn, Nia trailing right behind him. She glanced behind her as the door began to close. "You coming in?" She asked Malos, holding the door open.

Malos waved her off, holding up a cigarette. "I'm trying out one of these things. Can't say I see the appeal. Tastes like shit. Blowing smoke is cool, though."

He blew smoke into the evening air as Nia closed the door behind her, closing his eyes. His mind raced to what Cole had told him. About Addam.

After the final battle with Mythra, nobody was quite sure what happened to Addam. But one thing Cole had been completely certain of...was that he hadn't lived long. Malos' power had burnt him out, almost completely, during that final battle. Afterwards, Addam had been a shell of the man he had been before. No healing, nothing could cure him, of what seemed more like a malady of the soul than the body. It would have been...shocking, Cole had said, if he had lasted more than a year.

It was funny. Out of everyone he had known before, Cole...Minoth...seemed the most accepting of Malos' actions. Maybe it was because he was a Flesh Eater, and had never been as attached to other humans as Jin had been to Lora.

Or maybe it was because, as a playwright, he understood tragedy.

**7.**

After that night, when Rex had rejoined the group, things began moving quickly. It seemed...a little odd, to Nia, how quickly people had decided the mourning period was over. Although it made sense when Morag explained that Zuo would be arriving in Fonsa Myma soon, with the remains of Vandham's mercenaries, and it probably wouldn't be safe for her to be there when that happened. It broke Nia's heart to hear of what happened to Garfont. She had hoped that, perhaps, even though Vandham was gone, part of him might live on through his organization. But...it seemed like it all fell apart. Nothing stayed.

Although the quest for the World Tree demanded that they go to Indol, it was broadly agreed to honor Morag's request and make a stop in Mor Ardain on the way, to leave in a couple of days. Not even Malos disagreed. Nia herself was a bit relieved. She did not have...fond memories of Indol. And she'd worry that if she were to go there, if someone might recognize her...shout her secret...she looked down at herself. It might be worth it, trying to find a new outfit before they made their way to Indol.

But either way, Nia didn't feel like she was ready to say goodbye to Vandham, not yet. And there had been something she had been working on, as a goodbye. Something she wanted to deliver alone.

And so, the next day, while the others were busy packing up for the trip to Mor Ardain, Nia snuck out quietly, holding a small, wrapped object in her hands, and trudged the many steps up to Vandham's grave, arriving at dusk. Many people had walked these steps in the past week or so, coming to say goodbye to Uraya's most legendary driver. Nia was pretty sure she had even seen the Queen herself come by, at one point. Vandham's grave had been fairly busy. But now...a week on from his death, already the number of visitors was dwindling. People didn't like to dwell on what they had lost, Nia supposed. It was probably a good thing. Even if it seemed like it could be so harsh, so cruel to the dead. Wouldn't it be nicer if you could remember the beautiful times you had with those you lost, and not be reminded of the awful pain of losing them every time you thought of them?

As Nia mounted the last step, she looked around. This close to evening, there weren't many visitors to his grave. In fact, there was only one. A small Gormotti woman, sitting before his grave, knees pulled up beneath her, staring sullenly at it with intense green eyes, her hair a wild mane of shocking red, skin bronzed by the sun. She was particularly small, even for a Gormotti, barely standing taller than Nia although she was full-grown. He clothes were ragged, battle-worn, and she had blades strapped all about her, on her thigh, her waist, hidden at her side. She whipped her head around to stare at Nia as she approached. Nia froze as the woman evaluated her. "Oh, don't stop on my account, pretty girl," the woman said softly, after a while. "You want to visit this big oaf, you go right ahead. How did you know him?"

"He was...my friend," Nia said, sitting down next to her. "How about you?"

The small Gormotti woman was quiet for a long time. "He was my husband," she said finally. "My name's Caes. And you?"

"Nia." She glanced over at Caes, who was still staring angrily at his grave. She had...known that Vandham had a wife. Once. And a son. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting. But she supposed it made sense that, as estranged as they might be, she'd come visit his grave.

"We grew up together," Caes began, quietly. "From the time we were tots, we were playing with each other. And as he got older, and bigger, oh, he set my heart on fire. I knew...from a very young age, he was the one I wanted. We were both so adventurous, we loved the rough and tumble life. The day I learned that...he felt the same way about me that I felt about him..." here, tears began rolling down Caes' face. "Oh, I was so happy. So young. So in love, we were wild about each other." She wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm ramblin'. I suppose I was waiting here, waiting for someone to come by I could just babble at. I'll shut up."

"No, it's...it's okay, really," Nia replied. "I knew he had a wife, but...he never talked much about you. Or his..."

Caes sighed, staring again at the grave. "We journeyed together," she continued. "I was...so madly happy. We adventured together, across the world, lone wolf mercenaries. Happiest years of my life. And when we...finally admitted to each other, how we felt, how we'd felt for so long...we got married. And he put a baby in me. A beautiful baby boy. My little man. My little Rhoric. Vandham went out on missions to support us while I took care of the child. And Vandham was such a good father. Rhoric loved his great big da'." Caes buried her head in her hands, sobbing. "He was so good to me. Architect, what a damn fool. What a damn fool I am."

Nia remained quiet, as the woman wiped away her tears. She didn't know what she could say. She knew nothing she ever said could possibly console her.

"Rhoric...got sick," Caes continued, after a moment. "No one knew what it was. No doctor, no blade could heal him. Vandham worked so hard to pay all the medical bills, to send him to the best doctors in the world. But when the doctors said that he couldn't be cured, Vandham went...chasing after legends. He said he'd heard tale of a blade with powers to heal damn near anything. I begged him to stay, begged him to stay with his son in his...last moments. But damn bull-headed Vandham was sure he could be saved. And...that was how my little Rhoric died. Asking where his daddy was."

Nia's eyes widened, her heart racing. This had happened...just a few years ago, Vandham had said. A blade that could heal anything. Had he...heard about her? She supposed she would never really know, would she.

"I was so, so angry at him, when he got back," Caes went on. "You...know how we Gormotti can get. We got a reputation for temper for a reason. But...I was so sick with grief...I...hurt him in a way I know he'd never hurt me back. Attacked him, slashed at him. Cut up his face. What a damn lowlife, coward I was. I only was able to do it because I knew he was too gentle, too sweet to ever do anything like that back. Oh, the hurt in his eyes. Losing his son, and having his wife turn on him. That hurt, I won't forget till the day I die." She sighed, raising her eyes to stare furiously at the grave again. "I...always told myself...one day, we'd reconcile. He was my true love. Only man I ever have loved. That one day...I'd have the guts to apologize, and he'd take me back, and we could start over, stronger than before, because we had been through such darkness. And then...he had to go and die on me."

And here, she broke into full tears again, shoulders hitching, leaning forward to place a hand on his grave, her eyes filled with frantic sadness.

"How am I supposed to ever love again, Vandham? You gave me everything I wanted, everything I had dreamed of ever since I was a young girl, and then the world took it all away. How am I supposed to live like this?" She punched the grave between racking sobs. "Damn you. Damn you, you made me love you like this. You made me love you like this and then you left forever, you bastard, bastard, bastard. Why couldn't it have stayed like it was when we were young, forever?"

She sighed, after a long moment, and got to her feet, her hand lingering upon Vandham's grave. "Goodbye, my love, to all of that."

And as she walked away, she paused, without turning around. "Nia. Take my advice, girl. Never love anyone as much as I loved Vandham. It's not worth the pain of losing them."

Nia watched, silently, as Caes walked away, disappearing into the darkness, descending down the steps, walking away from Vandham for the final time.

She approached his grave herself, smiling bitterly at it. "Well, Vandham. If...I was the one you were looking for, here I am. Life's funny like that, isn't it? Maybe in some other world...you did find me, yeah? And I never would have joined Torna, and I could have saved your boy..." she shook her head, wiping tears away. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you never found me, if I was the one you were looking for. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help your boy. I'm sorry I couldn't help you. It's all I can say, really. You deserved better than this."

Her hands unwrapped the small package, placing it at his grave. It was a carving she had worked hard on over the past week, trying her best to get it as realistic as possible, and she had done a good job, if she said so herself.

It was a carving of a large bear, bearing a striking resemblance to Vandham, dressed up in his bandoliers and boots, sitting cross-legged on the ground, a small cat curled up on one of his knees, sleeping peacefully.

"Goodbye, Vandham," she whispered.

**Note**

Damn these chapters keep getting longer than I had planned for them to be

A major inspiration while writing this chapter was Crippled Black Phoenix-Hold On (Goodbye to all of that)

As usual please comment if you read! I'm usually very busy, and writing this fic takes up quite a bit of the little free time I have, I don't really have the time to go and promote it other places or anything. So the comments I do get are very inspiring


	13. Chapter 13

**8.**

"Nia."

Nia groaned, opening her eyes, blinking against the light flooding into them. She recognized where she was almost immediately. The willow tree, the tranquil pond, the fields of verdant green, the small cabin in the distance, smoke pouring lazily from the chimney.

This...this was a dream. Unlike last time, nobody else was here – not even Dromarch by her side. She was here alone. Alone, that is, except for…

She scrambled back in panic as she looked to her right, only to see Pyra there, looking down at her. She clawed her way to her feet, hands instinctively going for weapons that weren't there.

Pyra looked at her, sadly. "I'm not here to fight, Nia."

"Then what are you here for?" the girl snapped irritably. She didn't like Pyra being here. This place, in her dreams, it made her feel...comfortable, safe. She didn't like the harsh reality of outside disasters intruding into her dreams. It was like she couldn't expect to get some comfort, even there. "_How _do you get here, by the way?"

Pyra ignored this last question. She stepped forward, eyes down on the ground. "I...I wanted to say...I'm sorry for what happened to your friend," she whispered, miserably. "You...must think I'm so awful. I've...stood by as someone killed Rex, and I know how you feel about him. Now I've stood by as I killed someone else you love."

Nia was too furious to be embarrassed by Pyra's comments about Rex. "You're damn bloody right, I think you're awful," she hissed. "You didn't just 'stand by', Pyra, you...transformed into that lady, and killed him yourself!"

Pyra shook her head, still staring down at the ground in shame. "You don't understand. I...was worried what Malos would do to Jin, and Mythra….she's not me. I'm...derived from parts of her personality, but we're separate people. But...you're right. In panic, I called upon her. I just..." Pyra looked up at her, tears welling in her eyes. "I couldn't let Jin get hurt. I couldn't let Malos...you don't know how much it hurts when Malos uses his power. I...I struggle against it so much, but I...love Jin. I don't even know in what way, I just know I do. I couldn't let him just die before my eyes. Please. Try to understand."

Nia's fangs were bared, and she was choking back rage. But...despite herself, she felt a certain degree of sympathy for Pyra. Even, deep down, a flicker of admiration. Pyra knew who she loved, and did whatever it took to defend them. That...there was something there to appreciate. Something there that Nia wished she had the strength to do.

Finally, she crossed her arms, looking away from Pyra. It was no use fighting her. This was all a dream, anyway. Not like anything she could do here would actually get any justice for Vandham. "Damn it, Pyra, I can't ever forgive you," she said, angry at herself for the sadness in her voice. "Never, never." She thought of Vandham's smiling face. Of Iona's weeping. Of Vandham's wife, her rage and grief. Of Rex, and the utter devastation on his face when he had realized Vandham was gone, when he realized the man he had admired so much would never come back. "Never," she whispered.

"That's fine." Pyra shook her head, smiling through tears. "I know I don't deserve forgiveness. I know I'm...a monster. For what I've done in the past."

"Not just your damn past!" Nia shouted, glaring at her again. "Malos...he told us what your plan was. Did you think he'd keep it to himself? You damn lunatic, ending the world?" And now Nia was fighting back tears. She had loved Pyra, in the short time she had been with her. "How could you? How could you believe these things…?"

Pyra clutched her hand to her core crystal. "If you understood...if you could see what I see...maybe you'd understand. If I'm a monster, maybe I'm the monster the world needs. If that's the way it has to be...Malos isn't innocent either, Nia." Pyra's eyes flicked up to her. "Do you think...if he was given the chance to kill me by sacrificing Rex...that he'd hesitate for a moment?"

Nia's heart froze, and her blood ran cold.

"He...I'm sorry for him. Father didn't build him for understanding this world. He...just doesn't understand what it means to love, to cherish, to bond with someone. It's not his fault. Father...built him for confronting some of the ugliest and most terrible aspects of reality. Not for living with humans. But it makes him a monster all the same."

Nia wasn't sure what to think. Malos...could be a real bastard, yeah. An asshole, sometimes, even. But...it didn't seem quite right, what Pyra was saying. As much of a sarcastic ass as Malos could be...Nia thought he did care, in his own strange way, for Rex. And...even for her, maybe. His no-nonsense attitude, his sarcastic quips...they had grown on her. And...he had been there, in her lowest moments, and his frank honesty...had been nice. Refreshing. Malos...would never treat her with pity, and would always give her his honest opinion, and that was...nice, in a way.

"I don't necessarily want to end the world," Pyra whispered, when Nia didn't answer. "I..."

"Shut it, Pyra," Nia interrupted. "I...don't want to hear about it now." She shook her head. It twisted in her like a knife, to hear Pyra saying such ugly things. She...couldn't bear to listen to any more just now. It hurt too much. She didn't fear the words themselves, but she feared...how they might sink into her. Just how much she might find sane, in what Pyra had to say, at this particular moment.

When she had run off, barely under her own control...talking to Morag...Nia didn't want to feel like that anymore. She didn't want to feel the overwhelming, complete hurt and despair she had felt. Not just then, but at so many times ever since her father had died. She had thought of herself as strong for fending it off...but she had begun to realize that she just couldn't keep it up forever. Something needed to change. For the first time in a long time, being with the group...with Rex, Morag, Tora, everyone, hell, even Malos...she had people caring for her. Healthy, sane people. People who cheered her up...worried about her...people who made her happy. And it had made her realize that she was just sick, sick of feeling the way she had felt. She didn't want Pyra's darkness clawing its way into her head and making it worse.

Pyra, for her part, shut her mouth immediately. She sighed, walking forward, sitting down at the base of the tree, drawing up her knees to her chest. She looked out into the distance, across the peaceful, idyllic green fields, graze waving in the gentle breeze, her eyes tired. "I came here," she said, finally, "Because I wanted to warn you."

"Warn me?" Nia put her hands on her hips. "About what?"

Pyra was quiet for a long time. "I told you...Mythra isn't me," she said, finally. "I...come from part of her, but...we don't share the same opinions on everything. She...feels the same kind of guilt I do, for what she did so long ago. But..."

"What is it?" Nia said, after Pyra had remained silent for a long time. She stepped closer when Pyra didn't answer. "What? Spit it out."

"I'm afraid of what she might do," Pyra said quietly. "She's...seen the same thing I have. Five centuries of history, up close...she was...asleep for so much, but all of it, hitting her all at once..." She looked up at Nia, and suddenly grabbed her hand. "Would you like to see what I have seen…? What she's seen…?"

And suddenly Nia was no longer in the middle of the green field, the cabin faded away, the trees, everything faded away, and before her was an awful deluge of imagery, wars, wars, wars, endless wars, fields of dead, children screaming for parents that would never come home, blades begging wounded drivers to not die, great awful vehicles, killing machines, flame and horror, and great huge monstrosities, abominations built out of entire countries, pouring forth soldiers and flame and horror, and rising slowly through the centuries, more and more common in the wars, rising like a great unstoppable devil of history was Mor Ardain, no, the Clockwork Demon, black metal, eyes of flame, and from its mouth poured a million soldiers, a thousand fleets of airships, rising above the tide of flame and blood, and its body was a billion ticking gears of chaotic madness, and it could not be stopped, it would never stop, it would never, ever stop-

Nia awoke with a shriek, heart hammering in her chest. Adrenaline poured through her veins.

Shaking, she got up and walked to the window. They were still staying at the inn in Uraya. It was...either very late at night, or very early in the morning. Pale moonlight softly filtered through Uraya's hide, gently illuminating the silent streets of Fonsa Myma. One of her hands went to her forehead. What...she had seen, it was...she felt her thoughts growing fuzzy and dark again. Damn it, no, no, not this, she wanted to escape this, she wanted to escape it so badly…

Suddenly, she felt an insistent tugging at her wrist. She looked down to see Dromarch, taking her wrist in his hand. "Wha...what is it?" she murmured groggily.

"Back to bed," he replied softly. "Come, my lady."

"Oh...Dromarch, I couldn't sleep right now..."

"It was not a request."

Dromarch pulled Nia, protesting weakly, back to her bed. He insistently headbutted her until she laid back down, and when she did, he leaped onto the bed with her, curling up, half on top of her, half off. He was….warm, comfortable, and the gentle weight of him on top of her was nice, like a heavy, thick blanket.

"Dromarch," she yawned. "I've had the worst dream, I don't think I'll be able to get back to sleep..."

Twenty minutes later, she was snoring.

**9.**

Rex sighed, leaning back against one of Gramps' arms, sitting along a beach, watching the rosy drawn rise above the Cloud Sea, lost in thought.

Today was the day they were leaving Uraya. Morag had come into contact with some of the Ardainian spy houses in Fonsa Myma, and sent word on ahead to Mor Ardain that they would be arriving. She had said it was a necessity – with the war on, Mor Ardain's policy was to shoot down any unidentified ships or Titans that came close. If Gramps was going to bring them there, they needed prior warning. Rex had woken up early to come out to the spot they had agreed to depart from, a small beach leading out to the cloud sea, accessible from a narrow cliff path leading from the peak of Fonsa Myma.

To be honest with himself, Rex was feeling...a little intimidated by the idea of going to Mor Ardain. He had seen the propaganda almost his entire life – almost every country was paranoid about the idea of Mor Ardain, afraid of invasion by them. The large, humanoid colossus that was the Ardainian homeland, styled as a towering monstrosity of interlocking gears. The Clockwork Demon. Rex had never really bought into the rhetoric as much as other people. As a salvager, he had worked with Ardainians, even Ardainian soldiers, and while the most recent war had made them….aggressive, they seemed like normal people. Good people, even. Morag was Ardainian, after all. And yet…

The idea of gong to the beating heart of the Empire that so many feared, that had engaged in such brutal wars of conquest in the past...well, maybe there was a way to stop the current one. Morag certainly seemed to think that there might be. She kept quiet much of the time, and often kept her thoughts to herself, but...Rex had known how much she had respected to Vandham. How much she had come to respect his country. He didn't know what she could do herself, but it was worth giving things a try.

He looked down at the sand in front of him. There lay two core crystals, nestled into the sand. The core crystal of the monstrous blade that they had fought, so long ago, and Roc's core crystal. Rex had tried giving Roc's crystal to Yew – if anyone should have it, he felt like maybe Vandham's right-hand man should – but the mercenary had refused.

"I want to forget this part of my life for now," he had told Rex, backpack slung over his shoulder, cigarette dangling from his lips, as he had stood on the Fonsa Myma docks, eyes on the horizon, waiting for his ship. "Roc would just bring back too many bad memories. You keep him. Maybe you'll get more use out of him."

And then he had flicked his cigarette away, and that had been the last Rex had ever seen of Yew, waving a sad goodbye over his shoulder, not looking back.

Rex sighed as he poked at the core crystals, turning them over in the sand. There was no inner light, no vibrant blue glow to them, as he had seen with other active crystals – merely a dull, cloudy grayness, the interior of the crystal looking somewhat like an overcast sky. Roc's crystal, he might expect that it would take a bit longer to become active again. But the other crystal – Rex hadn't thought about it for a while, but he had asked around how long it normally took for a crystal to become active again after its driver had died, and it had already been months longer than that. Why wouldn't the crystal wake up? Maybe that one was...simply broken?

He shrugged, putting the crystals back in his back, then leaned back and closed his eyes, resting his head against Gramps' rocky hide.

"Are you feeling alright, Rex?"

Rex opened one of his eyes, looking up at the Titan's giant face, craning over him, lantern-yellow eyes staring at him with concern. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he replied. He crossed is arms, staring sharply into the distance, where the beach faded into a thick forest. "Just thinking, you know. Vandham was...the first person who died on our way to Elysium. I...really don't want there to be any more."

"Well." The Titan swung his head around to stare back out at the endless expanse of the Cloud Sea. "You can always...take precautions, and do your best to prevent it. But you can't control everything."

"Yeah, but am I taking the right precautions…? Two times we've gone up against Pyra and Jin, now. First time, you nearly died. Second time, Vandham….Vandham did die." Rex scrubbed tears from his eyes with the back of his arm, quickly, so Gramps wouldn't notice. "Maybe it was a bit arrogant to think we could take them by surprise. Next time, we gotta go in more prepared."

Gramps was silent for a long moment. "You know, you aren't….solely responsible for everything, right, Rex?"

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone who's with you...Nia, Morag, Tora, they all chose to be there with you. They chose to be on this...quest for Elysium. And you listen to them, don't you?"

Rex hummed a little to himself, frowning. "Yeah. Of course. It would be stupid not to, they know so much more than I do. But in the end, it's...my quest, yeah? I set them all on this course. Tora and Morag, they chose to come along on their own, but Nia...I went out of my way to convince her. The buck has stop somewhere, yeah? In the end...I'm the one responsible for how this all turns out."

Gramps adjusted himself, with a sound like boulders grinding together, curling his neck around Rex to lay his head beside the boy in the sand. "Don't….necessarily think of it like that. After all, you wouldn't force anyone to be with you that didn't want to be there, right? There's just too much going on here, too much that you don't know about, for you to have to feel like you're responsible for everything. I know you're dead-set on Elysium, but you're still young, Rex." He paused, frowning. "Don't feel responsible for more than you actually are."

Rex didn't answer. He merely glanced at Gramps, face unreadable, remaining silent.

He glanced up the beach up the winding cliff path he had taken to get down here. He saw movement along it, like a drifting shadow or patch of smoke. It was Malos. He rose to his feet as his blade approached him. He was...a bit embarrassed around Malos, lately. Vandham's death had hit him hard, and...Rex felt like maybe he had showed a bit more weakness in front of Malos than he should have. Malos was clearly, more than anything, a soldier, a warrior – he wasn't letting death get to him that much, and...Rex was a little humiliated that he had let Malos see how much it had hurt him. He couldn't help it, of course. Thank the Architect for Nia, who...he was always comfortable to be honest around. Ah, maybe he shouldn't have let her see him cry either. Maybe he was just a big crybaby in general.

"Hey, Malos," he called out, waving his hand. Malos cocked one eyebrow at him as he approached. Rex couldn't help but read some sort of disapproval into that silence. He had let Vandham die, he had failed to avenge him, he had been a huge crybaby afterward...there was no use in moping about it. He just had to push through, no matter how Malos was disappointed in him. He'd just have to show that he could be better in the future.

"I wanted to ask you something," Rex continued, as Malos got closer. "During...that fight. I saw you do stuff you've never done before. And when I channeled your power...it felt...much more...uh...powerful." He scratched the back of his head. "Did...something change?"

Malos crossed his arms, kicking back and leaning up against Gramps' side. He closed his eyes. "I told you before, I was damaged, right?" His hand went to his core crystal, purple and dark, inlaid in his chest armor. "In my fight against Mythra. Well, since we're both Aegis cores, we hold in each other the blueprints, the necessary material, to reconstruct one another. See, normally my core would be able to regenerate from some damage on its own." His eyes snapped open, gray and sharp, looking off into the distance. "But the damage I took was deep enough to take out my crystal's self-repair. Repairing it takes a lot of energy, information, and material. Pyra has all three. So I was able to get my hands on her, and repair myself a bit during the fight."

"Oh." Rex frowned, scratching his chin. "So are you all healed up then? Back to full power?"

"No. But I'm better off than I was. So we should test out just what my new limits are." Malos finally smiled at him, and Rex felt a little bit of relief. "I...know there's some things now I'm capable of that...well, let's just say we should ease you into them."

"Right." Rex pounded one of his fists into the other. "But I want to learn as much as possible, as fast as possible. I don't want any more...tragedies. I need to know how best to work with you so that we can win fights in the future, yeah?"

Malos glanced down at him, silently considering. "You know...the last part of the battle, when you were trying to take out Mythra by blowing up huge chunks of the Cloud Sea like a dumbass..."

Rex blushed. "Uh, yeah."

"You...were channeling my power even though I was trying to cut you off." Malos shook his head. "Channeling my power...without me having any control over it."

"Was I?" Rex shrugged. "I ah...guess I didn't realize."

Malos gave him a hard, intense stare, gray eyes like unforgiving steel. "Nobody has ever been able to do that. I didn't even think it was possible."

Rex began to sweat a bit beneath that gaze. "Heh...sorry? I mean, I really didn't even know what was happening. I was just so angry at Mythra, I just wanted to destroy her."

Malos stared at Rex for a long moment. This kid...he had been a bit wary of Rex ever since the fight. It disturbed him that Rex had been able to take advantage of his power without his...permission. And it had made him...well, a bit suspicious. Was Rex...hiding things from him? Was he more than he seemed on the surface?

But, well...the damn kid was just so innocent. Staring up at him, nervous, a little frightened...but utterly ignorant. Rex was almost certainly more than what he seemed on the surface, but whatever it was, he was as ignorant of it as Malos was. Finally, Malos relaxed. He unfolded his arms, smirking a bit, and Rex relaxed as well, giving him a beaming grin. The kid had his charms, that was for sure. It wasn't much wonder that Nia had such a crush on him.

Slowly, other members of the party made their way down to the beach. Tora, for once, was not the last to arrive. He came down the path riding on Poppi's shoulders, delicately balancing a notebook and a wrench as he worked on her even as she walked. The little nopon seemed to be much more enthusiastic, as of late, of making improvements and upgrades to Poppi.

Morag and Brighid came down next. Brighid had discarded her disguise – a risky move, but the beach was fairly isolated, and they'd be leaving soon enough. Morag was wearing her pants and white blouse. "Honestly, can't wait to get back into uniform once we're in Mor Ardain," she commented.

It was Nia who came down the cliff path last. Rex glanced at her in concern. She normally woke up earlier than most. But now here she was, late midmorning...her eyes with dark circles beneath them, and she seemed a bit pale. She rode on Dromarch's back, somewhat...limply, looking as if her limbs just didn't have strength in them.

"You alright, Nia? You look terrible," he commented, as she drew close.

She glared at him. "Oh. Well, thank you Rex. You look like shit today too," she snapped.

"You know what I mean." Rex crossed his arms. "You look...sick. Like you had a bad night."

Nia looked up at him, and was quiet for a moment. Should she tell Rex about the dream…? It had happened before, and...why was she even considering this? Why the hell did she feel like she needed to hide it from him? She knew Rex trusted her. She knew he'd believe her if she told him about the dream with Pyra, even if it sounded crazy. So why did her stupid brain insist that telling him was an awful idea? Why did the idea of telling him make her anxious? Was it really just long years of hiding and secret keeping that made her feel like she had to keep everything to herself? And if...Pyra was coming to her in her dreams, shouldn't it be something Rex should know about?

She resolved to herself that she would tell him during the ship ride over to Mor Ardain. "I'll...tell you later, yeah?" she replied quietly.

And finally, it was time to leave. Everyone slowly clambered onto Gramps' back. Rex turned and took one last look at Uraya, the land that had been their home for the past few months. The verdant, pastel forests stretching out into the distance. The towering cliffs, tangled with bioluminescent fungus. The friendly, hospitable buildings of Fonsa Myma. He had been here for so long, and still only felt like he had seen a small fraction of it.

"I'd like to come back," Morag said, beside him. Rex glanced up at her. "In...friendlier times. Uraya really is a place of such immense natural beauty." She smiled, wryly. "I have to admit, it has one up on Mor Ardain, there."

"I'd like to come back too," Rex replied. "Got...a lot of nice memories, here." He smiled to himself. He really did. Vandham might have died here, but he had also lived, and Rex would never forget his friendship, or all the time they had spent together in Vandham's homeland. "Some day, I will."

**10.**

The journey to Mor Ardain would not be a long one. These days, wherever Uraya was, Mor Ardain would not be far behind.

"Mor Ardain developed a way to control its Titan," Morag explained as they set off, a brisk breeze whipping through her hair as they began their journey across the Cloud Sea. "Years of research and huge excavation projects to drill through its hide and manipulate its nervous system to give som rudimentary control over its movements. It was...controversial, at first, from what I understand. Many people were worried that such a project would cause too much damage to the Titan, cause it to sink faster. But it's been completed and running for almost a century now."

"Huh, impressive." Nia was leaned back against the base of Gramps' neck, Dromarch purring halfway in her lap. "Leave it to Mor Ardain to be on the cutting edge of technology."

Morag shrugged. "It's actually not that impressive. Indol has a way to control their Titan as well, although I'm not sure how they do it. It's assumed that Tantal can do the same, and Gormotti have rumored Titan-whisperers that can supposedly control theirs, as well. Uraya is actually one of the few Titans where it's definitively known their government has no control over its movements."

Because of the war, the Ardainian government had its Titan constantly tracking the movements of Uraya, following, never far behind – not close enough to be visible from Uraya's shores, but close enough so that if an...invasion was decided upon, forces could be deployed quickly from the Titan itself.

Morag and Brighid watched quietly as Nia sat next to Rex, her side pressed against his, Dromarch curled around her, the two youngsters talking intently with each other. Both the older driver and her blade worried immensely about the young Gormotti. Morag's eyebrow arched as she watched a blush come to Nia's cheeks as Rex smiled at her. "I sure hope Rex treats her well," she murmured.

"Hmmm." Brighid pondered. "I wouldn't worry so much about that. Rex seems like the good type. Did you know he's asked me for dancing lessons? I think he wants to impress her."

Morag gave her blade a sidelong dance. "I've seen some of those dances you do. They can get...a little racy."

"Don't worry, lady Morag. I won't be teaching Rex to do the Gormotti fertility tango with Nia. A few simple waltzes, I assure you."

Morag chuckled softly in response, then looked out towards the horizon. It wouldn't be long, now before the towering figure of Mor Ardain's Titan was visible through the fog.

"Glad to be going home?" Brighid asked softly.

"Worried." Morag shook her head. "I've talked to Cole a bit. I knew things had gotten….bad, since the war started. But it sounds like they're much worse now." She glanced over at Malos. The Aegis was watching Tora disassemble one of Poppi's arms idly, attempting to smoke another cigarette. "Speaking of which. We really ought to give the Aegis a disguise if we're going to be in the middle of Mor Ardain. I've no doubt that there are others there who might try to capture him. At the very least, cover up his core crystal."

"Oh good! Maybe we can put _him _in a tiny dress," Brighid said, smirking slightly.

It wasn't long before the lumbering, humongous figure of the Ardainian Titan appeared, a colossal shadow on the horizon, waist-deep in the Cloud Sea. Peculiarly humanoid in shape, except for the long series of tentacles that ran down from its back, like a cape. It was missing its left arm, and as they drew closer, they could see that its skin – Mor Ardain's terrain – was cracked, sandy, scoured, with bright spots of flowing, pulsing lava visible within. Many parts of its body were covered with black crenellations – buildings, and towns, of the Ardainian Empire, Rex realized as they drew closer. Smoke poured from a thousand smokestacks hidden within these little obsidian settlements, causing the Ardainian titan to trail a thick cloud of smog as it walked through the Cloud Sea. And around its head, like a crown, floated dozens, if not hundreds, of Ardainian Titan airships, and the Cloud Sea surrounding its waist was circled by hundreds of ships from the Ardainian navy, some small, just a dot on the horizon, others huge, glittering, black war machines, battleships loaded up with racks and racks of guns. It was no wonder so many people feared Mor Ardain. Just half of those ships and airships was more than most other countries had at their disposal, and these were just a portion of the Empire's forces – they had other outposts all over the world.

The Ardainian Titan itself walked with a heavy, limping gait, somewhat hunched over, each of its heavy, slow, ponderous footsteps almost looking as if they hurt it. It really wouldn't be much longer now before the Ardainian Titan died and went under. Rex tried not to think about where all those warships would go before that happened.

It was the capital city of Alba Cavanich, seat of the Empire's government, that they wanted to visit, and that was built. appropriately, up by the head, decorating one of the Ardainian Titan's shoulders. As Gramps drew near to the Titan, he raised his wings, and with a mighty push, beating them against the cloud sea, sending the fog spiralling in wild eddies and chaotic currents around him, he lifted off. On his back, the party clung to him as he began a bumpy ascent, flapping his wings rapidly until he found a thermal to carry him higher with less effort on his part.

He began a slow spiral around the Titan, rising as he did so, and Nia found herself glad that she had Dromarch in her lap and Rex at her side. The view was amazing – cities soared to their side, howling deserts and sandy dunes spread out before them forever, following the contours of the Titan's body like some surreal painting – but it was hard to ignore the heights they were rising too. She closed her eyes and breathed in trembling breaths, opening them to glance at Rex when she felt his hand squeeze hers. "You...bloody bastard, why can't we take a normal airship," she managed to force out.

"Well, Gramps is free. You can't beat that price," Rex mused.

Nia closed her eyes again. "Ohh, but a normal airship would be so much nicer. So much less bumpy, and with...nice, big walls keeping everything closed in."

"Heh. Sorry. Should have figured you'd have hated this, with how scared you are of heights."

"Not _scared_," she insisted, wrapping her arms around one of his and squeezing tight. "I'm realistic. You fall from this height, you're gonna die from fear before you even hit the ground. It's normal to hate that sort of thing. _You're _the weirdo, not being scared of it."

"So...you _are _scared, then."

"The right amount of scared! So it's like I'm not scared at all!"

"Nia, that doesn't make any sense."

Nia clicked her tongue. "It's...something mathy, Tora explained it to me when he was explaining some business expenses...Oi, Tora! Help me explain this!"

Tora bounced over, listening to Nia's explanation. "Oh yes. What Nia trying to say is that her fear levels are well within expected variance," he said, quickly drawing out a little graph within his notebook.

"Yeah...yeah, see that?" Nia said, jabbing her finger into the notebook. "My fear levels….are within one...sig-mah? Is that right? One sigma of the mean. So they're the expected level of fear. So you subtract out...this fitted line, and you're left with the..."

"Residuals," Tora offered.

"Residuals, yeah. Point is! I'm the normal level of scared, so when you subtract out the normal level of scared, it's like I'm not scared at all. And Rex is not nearly as scared as he should be, because he's…two, or even three sigmas of stupid."

Rex laughed, and was about to come back with a retort, when something hissed and howled its way overhead, leaving an orange trail of sparks, faster than the eye could see. "What was-"

"Hold on!" Morag shouted in panic. "Hold on to something! Hold-"

And suddenly, there was another hissing howl, and Gramps roared as an explosion rocked off his side, desperately trying to keep his flying straight for the sake of the people on his back. Everyone screamed as they were nearly tossed off the Titan's back, to be sent hurtling thousands of feet down into the Cloud Sea, Tora himself only being saved by Poppi's quick reflexes.

Morag looked up above them, eyes widening. One of the Ardainian airships, a sleek, black destroyer, had turned toward them, and was firing upon them, from thousands of feet above, by Mor Ardain's crown. "Damn it, they were told we were coming!" she hissed. "Brighid, try giving them a signal that it's you and me here."

Brighid nodded, and with a graceful flourish, she was suddenly a beacon of bright blue flame, a pyre towering dozens of feet. Morag nodded with satisfaction. She used this as a signal to other Ardainian soldiers fairly often. Brighid's fire was highly recognizable. There was no way the commander of that ship couldn't see this, and when he recognized who they were, he'd stop-

Morag watched with shock as the ship unleashed another barrage, a cascade of hissing orange rockets. She stumbled as Gramps roared and tried to weave between them, dodging most of them...but with an awful roar, another one detonated right against his neck, and he howled with pain.

"GRAMPS!" Rex cried, his voice cracking with panic.

Morag looked around, down toward Mor Ardain. She put her hands against the Titan's back. "Land! Land, Gramps!" she shouted. "Doesn't matter where, just land! We're gonna have to sort this out on the ground!"

Gramps looked back at her, giving her a grim nod, and began his descent towards the Ardainian desert, rockets still raining down around him, dotting the desert landscape below with charred, blackened craters. Morag could see, down on the ground, tanks, war vehicles, already cutting a path through the desert. Already pursuing them to where they thought they might land.

She looked up, staring at Malos, who stood only a few feet away, his face eerily calm as he watched the quickly approaching landscape. As an Aegis, she supposed he didn't really have all that much to worry about, even in this sort of situation. Between the roar of the wind, and the howling of rockets, it was too loud to say anything to him. Instead, she reached out, and tapped her fingers against his core crystal. Malos looked up at her in surprise and shock. Once she had his attention, she made a covering motion, across her face, and across his core crystal, pointing down at the soldiers in the sand below.

Malos seemed to understand. With a burst of black sparks, his face was suddenly covered in a sleek, winged knight's helmet. And another armor plate slid in snugly from the plates on his chest, covering up his core crystal.

The desert below them approached with frightening speed, crags and cliffs and rocky outcroppings zipping past as they descended closer and closer. Gramps wanted to slow down for a landing, but it was difficult – the ship above them was still firing upon them, explosions rocking across the desert below, making it difficult to stop. But it was going to have to happen eventually. So when he came across a relatively smooth portion of terrain – a long stretch of sand dunes, of orange, dirty-looking sand, with no rocks visible sticking out of the dirt – he attempted to slow down, to come in for a landing. He was rewarded for his efforts with another rocket detonating against his side, and with a roar, he crashed into the dunes, the sand kicking up around him in a minature sandstorm as he slid across the dunes, carving a long furrow into the desert.

Morag had been tossed from his back the minute he slammed into the ground – everyone had – but being prepared, she and Brighid managed a smooth, graceful roll to their feet as the Titan slid to a stop. Morag raised her arm, shielding her eyes against the whipping, pelting sands. Gramps had chosen a wise area to land – she could only hope that the others tossed from his back had landed, unharmed, in the sand dunes.

And indeed, she could see, not far from her, Nia lifting her face from the ground with a groan, spitting out sand, and Rex not that much further away, being helped to his feet by Malos. But she, unfortunately, had no time to worry about them.

She turned to gaze across the desert, where a convoy of rumbling war machines was approaching them, their headlights stabbing out across the desert, the roar of their engines quickly growing louder and louder. She summoned Brighid's blades to her hands as she walked to intercept them, placing herself between the wounded Titan and the rapidly approaching vehicles.

Reaching her, the convoy screeched to a stop, surrounding her in a ring, headlights pouring onto her, nearly blinding her. Soldiers poured from the vehicles, quickly raising rifles to point at her. "DOWN, GET DOWN, DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND GET DOWN," a commanding voice screamed at her, and there was the sound of a hundred weapons cocking at once-

With a flourish, Morag was wreathed in blue flames. "I am Special Inquisitor Morag, right hand of the Emperor, and by his authority, _you _will drop _your_ weapons," she replied, her voice low but clear, deadly, ringing out across the sands.

There was silence for a moment, and Morag actually began to wonder if they were going to shoot at her anyway. But then, she heard a commander's gruff voice: "Architect's arse, lower your rifles, you lot. That's the Inquisitor, sure. I'd recognize those flames anywhere."

The headlights shut off, no longer blinding her, revealing a circle of of Ardainian soldiers, in full armor, faces hidden behind masks, milling about in confusion. One of them, wearing a tall commander's helmet, approached her, eyeing her up and down, then glancing behind her to look at the Titan crashed into the sand. "Ach, Inquisitor, it really is you. What a damn mess."

"Commander. I had sent word on ahead that I would be arriving on a Titan matching this distinct description. Why is it that we were still fired upon?"

The officer gulped. "I dunno, Inquisitor. I'm just in command of this interceptor crew." He looked behind him, and than snapped, "Hey. HEY. You lot, put that damn net away. This is the damn Inquisitor."

Two soldiers, in slightly different outfits than the rest – their armor more black, padded with thick leather – were busy unraveling a gigantic, hooked net of heavy black chain. "Whether or not that's the inquisitor doesn't matter," one of them called. "Our orders are very clear. Every single Titan within the Empire's borders is to be captured and integrated into the war effort."

Rex, in the meantime, had completely ignored the approaching soldiers, instead dashing to Gramps' side the second he had gotten to his feet. "Damn it, _damn it,_" he said, fighting back tears, as he saw the smoking holes in the Titan's hide.

"Oh, don't you worry about me, Rex," Gramps groaned, shaking sand from his head, sending it cascading down. He stretched out his wings, casting immense shadows against the ground. "It would take more than a few rockets to take me out. This is nothing."

Rex shook his head. He couldn't stand it. Not after losing Vandham. He couldn't stand to see another person he loved get hurt for him. Another old friend too willing to sacrifice his life to save young, stupid Rex. He couldn't stand it.

His head snapped up, glaring, as he heard the tramping boots of Ardainian soldiers approaching him. Two soldiers were approaching Gramps, with purpose, holding chains and shackles in their hands, while Morag and another Ardainian officer trailed behind them.

"Commander, I told you to call off your men," Morag snapped.

"They...aren't technically my men. They're part of a new unit, just part of a detachment..." The officer leaned toward Morag conspiratorially. "Very, very Brionac-influenced," he whispered. "They don't have to obey my commands."

"This Titan is now property of the Ardainian government," one of the soldiers began, upon reaching Rex.

"In the name of the Emperor, _stop,_" Morag snapped, as the soldier reached out to hook the chained net into Gramps' stony hide.

And then there was the sudden hiss of steel, of swords drawn from scabbards. And the Ardainian soldiers holding the nets found Rex's blade pointed at their necks, along with Morag's.

"Drop the net," Rex hissed. "Nice and slow."

The soldiers raised their hands, the net falling into the sand, its weight immediately burying itself in the dirt.

"Here's what's going to happen," Morag said tersely. "This Titan is an honored guest of the Emperor. Orders were sent forewarning of his arrival. For as long as he is in Mor Ardain, you will treat him-"

"Ah...no offense, my dear," Gramps interrupted, rumbling. "But...well. Given that you sent word on ahead, and I was still fired upon...I think that perhaps Mor Ardain is not the safest place for me to be." He stretched out, yawning, bearing rows of dagger teeth that made the Ardainian soldiers fidget nervously. "I really have no desire to fight off attempts to get me to join the Empire's forces the entire time I'm here."

Morag looked up at the Titan, and she felt shame stab through her heart. Here she was, inviting him to her home, and he had nearly been killed for it. Of course he didn't want to stay. Of course he'd want to get as far away as possible, as soon as possible. "Of….of course," she murmured, her face somewhat red from embarrassment.

Rex sheathed his sword, turning towards his Titan. "What are you saying, Gramps? You want to wait for us in Fonsett?"

"That may be the best option," the Titan mused. "I know this quest to Elysium is important and all, but you can make a stop there after you finish up here, right? Of course...the best option assuming I can fly away from here without getting shot down."

Morag's mouth was a grim, thin line as she felt yet more shame course through her. "Right." She breathed in heavily, then glared at the Commander in front of her. "Alright. _Here's _what's going to happen. This Titan is going to fly away from here, and if he's shot at _once_, I will personally conduct an investigation into corruption among airship commanders, and I can promise you heads will roll. You had best get on the radio as soon as possible and tell the boys up there," Morag nodded upwards, towards the airships circling the skies above them - "what the Inquisitor's orders are."

Rex sighed, patting Gramps' hide, as the Ardainian soldiers ran away in panic, dashing back to their vehicles to get on their radios as quickly as possible. "Jeez, old man, you really do get just all the wrong kinds of attention, don't you."

"Hah! Well, who wouldn't want me on their side in a fight. Can you breathe fire? I didn't think so."

"I can," mused Brighid. "But, ah, it's more of a party trick than a combat thing."

"Either way, this is probably the best bet. I mean, I'd love to be with you, Rex. But you probably won't spend _too _long here, right?"

"Not too long, no," Morag murmured. "I just wanted...to take some time to talk to my brother. Perhaps introduce you to him." She still felt like a selfish fool. Thank the Architect Gramps hadn't been seriously injured. They were all here, in Mor Ardain, mostly for her. How awful would it have been for Gramps to have died just bringing her here on this...excursion?

"Well then, there you go, I'll see you in a few weeks at the latest." the Titan said happily. "I'm sure the folks back in Fonsett want an update on how you're doing anyway. Imagine what they're going to say when I tell them you're on a quest for Elysium?"

Rex groaned. "Oh, man. I hadn't thought of that. I'm sure some of them will have a few choice words for me."

Finally, the commander returned, telling them they were clear to let the Titan take off. The captains in control of the airships had pushed back, harshly, against the idea of letting him go, but once they had heard that the Inquisitor was on the ground – and that yes, it was definitely the Inquisitor that was there, that they had fired upon – they had relented pretty quickly. Morag had to wonder whether that was because they respected her rank, or because they respected her brother, or whether because they just respected the title "Emperor." She wondered what exactly was going on within the ranks. She was certain, positively certain, that the ship firing upon them had seen Brighid's beacon. And then continued firing, anyway. And the soldiers from the Titan-capture detachment...she had never seen any react so glibly to the presence of the Special Inquisitor. Not that she enjoyed her presence being an ominous, fearsome one to soldiers, necessarily...but they usually at the very least treated her with respect. These men had merely...ignored her.

With a sly smile, and a running start, Gramps had galloped across the dunes, finally leaping into the air, rising rapidly on a thermal. He pirouetted neatly in the air, tucking his wings against him, spinning nimbly, wings flashing against the setting sun. Rex laughed, and felt a bit more at ease. If Gramps could move like that, he probably wasn't too badly injured. And even if the ships were to start firing on him, he'd probably have a much easier time dodging rockets if he could fly like that, without having to worry about anyone on his back. With a start, Rex realized that this was probably why Gramps was putting on this little display in the first place. To make him feel better. The old man really was a considerate guy, sometimes. But on the other hand, if he could move like that, Rex wasn't sure if he was going to believe all of Gramps' moaning and groaning about aches and pains in the future. Still...Rex felt like he really ought to do something for the big Titan. He wasn't sure what. Maybe he'd think of something by the time they went to Leftheria.

Finally, Gramps took off, soaring off to the horizon, quickly making his way away from the Ardainian titan, and then, when he was just a speck in the distance, Rex saw him diving down, down into the Cloud Sea. It was significantly easier for Gramps to swim than it was for him to fly. He'd probably swim the rest of the way to Fonsett.

After he was gone, the commander approached them, bashfully. "Ah. Special Inquisitor Morag. You and your guests are welcome to ride in the convoy. I'm afraid we don't have any...vehicles suiting your status. You'd have to ride in the back of a truck."

Morag barked a laugh. "Captain, of all the things that've happened, that's one thing you don't need to worry about. I don't mind riding like a soldier. I don't think my friends mind, either. Let's go."

**11.**

The party clambered into the back of one of the Ardainian vehicles, a truck with a roaring, rumbling engine, its frame covered with a thick green tarp. They kept the back of the tarp pinned up as they drove away, so that they could see the terrain disappearing behind them as they raced off. It gave Rex a real appreciation that they had gotten a ride. He could see, speeding behind him, through the clouds of dust and sand kicked up by the truck, just how unforgiving and brutal Mor Ardain's terrain was. Endless, rough desert, pocked by sharp, jagged rock outcroppings.

And it wasn't merely the terrain. If he had thought Uraya's wildlife was aggressive, Mor Ardain's was clearly something else. He could see gargantuan, awful beasts, nearly as big as the truck itself, their skin thick leather, jagged bone spikes jutting out from them, moving in herds as they drove past. And giant snakes, also nearly the size of the truck, aggressive, unafraid of humans, some of them leaping at the trucks, spitting, hissing, chasing them for a short distance before the truck outpaced them, unfurling massive hoods.

Mor Ardain was a rough, forsaken land. And the heat was oppressive. Morag explained that as the Titan got closer to the end of its life, the hotter it became. It made farming nigh impossible. But on the other hand, it allowed the people of Mor Ardain access to incredible amounts of geothermal energy, the lifeblood of the empire. It was this energy that powered their industry, that had led to their rapid advances in science and technology. Rex...could kind of see the problem this introduced. It wasn't just as simple as moving all the people from Mor Ardain to another land when the Titan died. When they moved, they'd no longer have access to so much free, abundant geothermal energy. Adjustments would have to be made. The entire economy of the Empire would have to be reworked.

It was getting close to night time by the time the truck stopped, the sandy dunes stained red with the setting light of day. The truck pulled into a small outpost, just outside the gates of Alba Cavanich. Rex gaped up at the city, as they hopped out of the truck. The sheer grandiosity of it – the imposing, black monolithic buildings, the bright, burning lights shining out of the windows – and above it all, towering, bigger than any building he ever thought possible, the harsh angles, smooth, obsidian palace, the heart of Mor Ardain, golden-striped décor burning bright in the setting sun, big enough to support an airship deck on its roof, where massive battleships docked and took off…

Rex whistled appreciatively. "Man. I heard Mor Ardain was impressive, but I guess you never really know until you see it in person."

As they milled about, the Commander approached them. "Lady Morag. I can arrange to have you bought the rest of the way to the palace." He spread his hands in apology. "Sorry, we had to stop here at the base to refuel, but -"

"That's alright, Commander," Morag replied. Seeing the imposing spires of Alba Cavanich, she felt more at home. It had been too long since she had walked these streets, too long since she had known the simple joy of being back in her homeland. "I think we can walk the rest of the way. It's not a long way to the palace."

Rex glanced around, at the base they were on. It was much like the base back in Torigoth had been. Decorated with large, anti-aircraft guns, a few squat, unintrusive living quarters, ringed with high walls, barbed wire, guard towers, and a dock leading out into the Cloud Sea for ships to -

Suddenly, Rex blinked. There was a group of ragged-looking, beaten men, chained together at the ankle, being led through the base by a group of soldiers. Their clothes were rags, tatters, and they wept as they were marched along.

"What's...going on there?" he asked, pointing them out.

The Captain glanced up, taking in the group of ragged men. "Ah." He shook his head. "Traitors, the lot of them. Found to be conspiring to sabotage the war effort." He shielded his eyes against the sun, watching them walk. "They...yep, I think these lot are slated for execution."

Rex was quiet for a moment. Then his eyes went wide, and he looked at Morag, then Malos, in panic. "Execution…?"

"Yep," the Captain said, shrugging. "Like I said, sabotaging the war effort."

"But...what did they do, specifically?" Rex cried, turning towards him.

"Rex," Nia said, softly. She knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Hmm." The Captain pondered for a moment. "I can't say for sure what each of them did. Didn't read the list of charges over that closely. But I know some of them. Spreading anti-war propaganda. Destroying important industrial machinery, decreasing productive capacity. Suspected consorting with the enemy."

"Last I knew, those sorts of charges didn't warrant outright execution," Morag said softly.

The Captain merely shrugged. "Things changed, I suppose. I don't make the rules."

"So all they did...was say how they didn't like the war, and broke some machines," Rex said, fuming, "And you're going to take away their lives for that…? Just for words and broken parts?"

"Rex," Nia whispered, grabbing his hand. He looked at her, eyes wide. Damn him, why did he have to be so innocent and good? "Let it go," she said quietly. "There's nothing we can do." And she winced. It hurt, it actually hurt to be the one to stomp on that innocence.

"But...this isn't right," Rex said, hopelessly. He looked up at Morag, who shook her head, looking away, and then up at Malos. "We...have to save them, we have to do something," he said, despair creeping into his voice.

"You can't always do something, Rex," Malos said quietly. "We're in the heart of the Empire. We can't really do anything. Be smart about this."

The Captain was staring at them, looking at their whispered conversation suspiciously. "We'll be fine, thank you, Captain," Morag replied to him, tersely. "We'll make our way to the palace on foot. You can take your leave."

"RIGHT, YOU TRAITORS, HANDS ON YOUR HEAD, FACE THE CLOUD SEA," one of the soldiers roared from behind them.

Nia held onto Rex as she felt him instinctively try to run in that direction. "We can't...we can't just let them..." he said, frantically. And finally, he stopped struggling. He shut his eyes, shook his head, and looked away, grimacing. "We can't do anything, can we. The whole Empire would be down on our heads if we tried to save them."

Behind them, there came the sound of guns loading.

"Let's just go," Rex said, and the resignation and sadness in his voice...as much as it hurt him, Nia hope he never lost it. She hoped he never stopped feeling as strongly about injustice as he did right now. It was...part of what made Rex, Rex.

As they walked away, gunshots rang out.

Rex's eyes widened, and he put his hands to his head. "Architect," he muttered to himself. More people. More people he couldn't save. More people giving up their lives...for what? For trivialities. For words and broken machine parts, they had paid with their lives, and he hadn't had even the slightest hope of stopping it. "Oh, damn it, damn it, I am so worthless," he muttered to himself.

Nia heard him, and felt her rage rise within her. She wanted to slap Rex, tell him what an idiot he was for thinking that he could save everyone, even strangers. But...now was not the time. The poor boy was too hurt already. She could tell him what an idiot he was later. Instead, she just squeezed his hand and bit her tongue. It was hard, but she bit it.

As they entered Mor Ardain, a light rain began falling.

Steam rose from the tangle of pipes that threaded through the gates to Mor Ardain, supplying thermal energy to the gate itself, rising from the streets baked to incredible heat by the scorching desert sun, from the buildings whose black exteriors absorbed the heat of day, the entire city cast in a small, thick fog.

Even with the dying light of day, even with the rain, Mor Ardain bustled with incredible activity, humming with energy. People crowded the streets, each of them, it seemed, shooting off in their own direction, a chaos of movement, keeping their eyes on the pavement, walking quickly, purposefully. All of them wore what looked to be some form of military dress. The party got a few curious stares as they made their way through the city, but for the most part people kept their eyes down, kept to themselves.

As they moved further into the city, Rex...didn't know what it was he was feeling. It was a sort of energy, almost frantic, that moved through him. He wasn't the only one to feel it. The sight of the city around them, operating as a well-oiled machine – everyone moving with such purpose, everyone knowing exactly where to go, the screech of train whistles, the smooth and unstoppable pulsing of thermal energy through the pipes of the city…there was something about this place, something about Mor Ardain, that...was almost hypnotic, in its allure. Everything so well-coordinated, everything so...meaningful.

And as they got closer to the palace, the streets began to fill with politicians, politicians giving speeches, but these were not the same sort of politicians Rex was used to. Rex barely ever paid attention to politics, but his impression of politicians was that they were dull, boring, bossy, and not nearly as important as they thought they were.

But here, the politicians of Mor Ardain...they were down in the streets, giving fiery, impassioned speeches to huge crowds. With flashing eyes, and quick rhetorical wit, they extolled and harangued, with silver tongues they painted a picture of the world, a world where Mor Ardain stood above all the rest, and it was _right _ that it did, because they had worked so _hard _to make it that way, and the crowds roared approval as they spoke of conquest, and they spoke of power, power to change the world, and that was what Mor Ardain was to them – a contract, a pact, a pact of power, to change the world as they saw fit.

History moved, here, history was the blood of Mor Ardain. Uraya, Fonsa Myma – it had been a comfortable place to live, a beautiful one, even. But history was not forged there, not in the same way it was in Mor Ardain. Mor Ardain was ambition, ingenuity, purpose, all in one, and it flowed from every pore of the city. You could feel it in your bones, the things done here, they would change the world. And for good or ill, that made Mor Ardain _more _than other countries.

And you could hear it, in the speech of its politicians, in the enthusiasm of its people: this was _their _moment, their moment to rise, by the blood and sweat of generations of their people had they prospered, and now the world was poised for change. This was their moment in history, the future belonged to them, and it ran through the crowds like a current, it even ran through Rex. He could see the joy in their eyes, they had worked so hard, created so much, discovered so much about how the world worked, sacrificed so much, bled so much, all to bring them to this moment, this moment where they could rework the very tides of history. The whistle of trains screeched in the distance, the hum of thermal piping throbbed, and and it all blended together, with the purpose and certainty of Mor Ardain's people, into some grand symphony, bigger than any one person could understand, bigger than any one person could conduct, uncontrollable and wild.

Slowly, the speeches and cries of the politicians, and the crowds that attended them, faded away, as they drew closer to the palace itself. Morag paused before the humongous, monolithic doors of the palace, black woven with gold, looking back out over the city that was her home, feeling the symphony of her Empire flow through her, knowing that there was nothing else like it, anywhere in the world.

"Welcome," she said, "to Mor Ardain."

**Note**

I just wanted to say, thank you to everyone who has been reviewing this. I wish I had more time to reply to you guys, but this takes up quite a lot of the little free time I have just writing it.

For this chapter, the walk up to Mor Ardain was really inspired a lot by Max Richter-November

As usual, please review if you can!


	14. Chapter 14

**12.**

The interior of the Ardainian palace was enormous and imposing, walls of smooth black stone gleaming with polish, inlaid with borders of gold, ceilings stretching up so far that they almost stretched out of sight. The serious silence in here was very different from the chaotic cacophony outside, almost oppressive, the complete silence giving the entire palace a sense of seriousness. Outside was where the people were preached to, where they were sold the vision of power, but here is where the actual levers were pulled that might decide the lives of thousands of people.

Their sound of their boots echoed loudly as they walked through the interior, clicking across the smooth stone floor. There were very few people in here – a few soldiers, posted at doorways. Rex was a bit surprised that even here, they had weapons at their side.

"So," he said, breaking the silence as he glanced up at Morag. "Your brother lives in the Palace?"

"Well, of course," Morag replied, staring straight ahead as she walked. "Where else would the Emperor live?" 

"Oh, yeah. I guess." Rex nodded sagely, then paused. "Wait. Your brother is the Emperor himself?"

"Did I not mention that?" Morag said, absent-mindedly, as Brighid smirked at her side.

"No!"

"Wait, hold on a minute," Nia interrupted. "Does that mean you're...royalty?"

"Well. Technically. I haven't thought of myself as that way in a long time." Morag closed her eyes, memories of her youth flashing through her head, the training in the ways of nobles she had received. Ardainian nobility was a strange breed, compared to nobility in other countries. Combat training was common, and courtly manners were eschewed in favor of learning tactics, strategy, and political rhetoric. They were taught not to avoid the common folk, but rather to engage with them – a proper Ardainian noble was to have the ability to give rousing, inspiring speeches to huge crowds. Morag had excelled at the combat training and strategy, but the rhetoric – she had never caught on properly. It was seen as less vital for the Ardainian royal family to be skilled at rhetoric – it was a more vital skill for the Senators and the influential families they were usually elected from – but still, it had rankled her, growing up, to be caught in debates with her peers that had danced around her with fiery speech. She had been frustrated with the classes, eminently practical, disdaining speech for action, finding the talk a bunch of frivolous nonsense – but as she grew older, watched the crowds hypnotized by the speech of the Senators, who used their influence to steer the ship of state...she had grown more envious of them. A good speech was power, just the same as an army was, if not more so.

She led them into a grand, glass elevator, inlaid again with gold. As it rose, it opened up onto a spanning, gorgeous view of the city below them, stretching off far into the distance.

Nia found her thoughts turning to places they didn't normally go to. She had lived in Gormott, her father part of the nobility, so politics were naturally something she had been exposed to, but she had never been that interested in them. In Gormott, the nobility were often fairly isolated from the rest of society, and all their words seemed so petty – their opinions had no impact on what happened, under the Ardainian government, and most of how power changed hands among the nobility was based off of who had slighted whom, who had praised whom, all things that Nia had found endlessly boring.

But throughout her history lessons, she had learned to read between the lines. Through people referencing old families that no longer existed, through talk with the townsfolk, she had learned that what was left of the Gormotti nobility was a shadow of its former self. The Ardainians, when they had invaded – before her lifetime – had crushed any sign of rebellion, going so far as to exterminate entire rebel tribes. Many Gormotti nobility had been swept up in the purges, entire families erased from history, disappeared into the fires of civil war. And it had been bloody, and ruthless. The war had ended when Mor Ardain had made it clear they were more than willing to keep killing anyone who resisted their rule until there was nobody left, if necessary.

And looking out at the wealth of Mor Ardain – the endless industry, the grand buildings, the Palace larger than an entire Gormotti town – what had it all been for? Why had the Gormotti had to suffer so much, when Mor Ardain was clearly already so much better off than Gormott had been? She knew that the justification was that Mor Ardain desperately needed the agricultural capacity of Gormott. But with all this wealth, why had they not simply...paid for some food imports? Had it really justified so much death, so much suffering?

The elevator came to a smooth, almost imperceptible stop at the highest level of the palace. Rex's eyes widened as they stepped off into a hallway, decorated with countless paintings – all former Emperors of Mor Ardain, stern gazes looking down at them as they walked along. That wasn't what impressed him, though. At the end of the hallway were a pair of glass doors opening out onto the rooftop of the palace, and through the glass, Rex could see the impressive sight of Ardainian airships, huge mechanical devices, belching smoke, roaring propellers, taking off and docking at the rooftop airdock. "Amazing," he murmured to himself.

"Hmm. Ardainians have some of best tech in world," Tora said, at his side, also appreciating the airships. "Nothing compared to Tora's family, of course. But still, very impressive."

The hallway stretched on and on. Morag had walked down this hallway hundreds of times, but this time she found herself examining the portraits of the Emperors more closely than she normally would. In some of them, Aegaeon, or Brighid, or both, were painted alongside the Emperor. There were dozens of them.

And thinking back, she realized, for the first time, that there had been barely any that had not presided over some war, some conquest, begun by Mor Ardain. Hugo had been one of the few, she thought, as she passed by his painting, and that was because he had died so young. Although her brother was around his age, and he was already presiding over a war begun by Mor Ardain. She found herself wondering how many of those Emperors had been pressured into the wars, rather than starting them. Or how many had simply, over the course of their rule, become so accustomed to war that starting one had seemed like a good idea. She wondered if that was what would happen to her brother. If the sweet young boy she knew now would be hardened by age, becoming one of the stern, hard men decorating these walls, eyes lined with dark bags, eyes having seen too much death to care anymore.

Finally, the hallway led to a pair of ornate doors, decorated with gold leaf, that was the entrance to the imperial suites and the throne room. Before she even opened them, Morag could hear voices on the other side. Her brother's, and someone else, talking loudly.

She threw the doors open, and Rex whistled at the sight. The throne room of Mor Ardain was not composed of somber black stone, like so much of the city. It breathed life and grandiosity, white stone and gold, everything seeming to glow with a rich inner light. The ceiling opened up to a grand glass dome, through which the head of Mor Ardain's Titan was visible, pocked, scarred and torn, an honestly ugly sight in the beauty of the throne room.

The Emperor sat at a table in the throne room, across from a woman with wild, sea-green hair, which she had attempted to tame by tying into a ponytail. She whipped her head around to stare at them with flashing blue eyes, the color of a stormcloud. Nia's eyes widened to see her pointed ears, and the scales lining the sides of her face. She was Urayan, or at least part Urayan. She was athletic, striking in a way, beautiful and intense, dressed in a long black overcoat, a military cap on the table next to her. She rose, and she was very tall, towering over Morag, nearly as tall as Malos.

Morag recognized her. Senator Sylvaneus Aquilia Borallis. Known to her friends as Sylvie. She had been in Morag's class when she had attended military academy. But whereas Morag had gone on to serve in the field, Sylvie had followed her family's plan for her, and gone into politics, rising quickly through the ranks, until she had become one of the youngest ever to achieve the rank of Senator. And even there, she had distinguished herself. Apparently particularly well. It wasn't just any Senator that had the authority to argue with the Emperor himself in his own throne room. She was also one of the most ardent, enthusiastic members of the Brionac political party.

"Well, look who it is," she snapped, crossing her arms as she approached Morag and the party. "Special Inquisitor Morag. I had heard you were coming home. Though your brother still steadfastly refuses to tell me what it was your mission was." She cast her eye over the rest of the party, her gaze lingering in particular on Poppi, raising an eyebrow. "And who are these lot that you're just traipsing into the throne room with?"

Morag, however, was ignoring her. She looked past her to her brother, who was smiling, beaming wanly at her, happiness at seeing her written all over his face. But he was pale, and his eyes were sunk into dark circles on his face, and he seemed thinner than usual, the Emperor's intricate garb hanging loosely on him. Morag found her heart twisting in a way it never usually did. Her brother...he needed rest, the poor sweet boy, she could tell just by looking at him. Her eyes flicked back to Sylvie. "I could ask you the same thing, Senator," she said coolly. "Certainly the Emperor has better things to be doing than to be discussing policy details in his throne room?"

"We wouldn't have anything to discuss if your brother would just launch the damn invasion of Uraya and get it over with," Sylvie snapped, sighing with frustration as she looked back at the Emperor.

Rex, Tora, and Nia glanced at each other, feeling uncomfortable. Whoever this woman was, she was powerful. It wasn't anyone who could talk so dismissively and with such criticism in the face of the Ardainian Emperor himself. "I don't get it," Rex said, suddenly, feeling a little apprehensive as everyone in the room turned to stare at him. "Uh. Aren't you Urayan yourself? Why are you so keen on Mor Ardain invading Uraya?"

Sylvie's chest swelled with pride, and she gave him a wicked smile. "Oh, my family may be Urayan, boy. But we've served the Empire for generations, now. Mor Ardain will let anyone who can serve the Empire climb to the highest heights. Part of what makes us great. Didn't you know?" She turned back to Morag, giving her a quizzical look. "Just who are these people, Morag?"

"Ah," Niall said, suddenly interrupting. "These must be the informants you recruited in Uraya. Isn't that right, Morag?"

Morag nodded, and rolled with the lie. "Yes. That's right. Informants. Sympathetic to the Ardainian cause. Having vital knowledge of Urayan military movements and tactics."

Sylvie tapped her foot, glaring at her sharply. "Sympathetic to the Ardainian cause. And yet that one," she said, pointing at Rex, "Didn't know the first thing about Mor Ardain." She shook her head. "And that," she continued, now pointing at Poppi, "is an artificial blade. I know for a fact that Uraya doesn't have that tech."

"Poppi is no Urayan invention! Tora himself invented Poppi," Tora replied, bouncing excitedly.

"Is that so, littlepon?" Sylvie turned her intense gaze onto Tora, who quivered a bit beneath that glare. "Curious, that. Very curious."

"Senator Borallis," Niall interrupted, before she could come up with any more questions. "I apologize, but I believe my sister probably has some very important reports to be giving to me that are, unfortunately, highly classified. If you would afford us a little privacy." He gave her a prim smile.

Sylvie turned to gaze at him, and Morag wondered just how bad things had become. For a hardliner like Sylvie to be filled with such bravado, such confidence, such awful energy – to have the confidence to confront the Emperor in his own throne room – and what worried Morag the most was how cheerful she seemed. As if she knew it was merely a matter of time before she got her way. "Of course, your majesty," Sylvie murmured, voice low. She strode to the table, picking up her cap, pulling it down over her wild mop of hair.

As she walked from the throne room, she stopped at Morag's side, pausing, not looking at her. Morag glanced over to her inquisitively.

"We are winning, Morag," Sylvie said quietly, mockery in her voice.

Then she strode from the throne room, slamming the door behind her.

Niall sighed heavily, leaning forward, holding his head in his hands. He quickly lifted it, though, smiling again at Morag. "It's good to see you," he said quietly. "It's been a while. I was getting worried."

Morag wanted to say so much. She wanted to scold him for not taking care of himself, ask him who it was that was causing him to lose sleep, ask him if he was okay. But she couldn't, not in front of guests. It wouldn't be proper to ask the Emperor to admit to weakness in front of strangers. But she found herself worrying about Niall, like she had never before in her life. "It's...good to see you as well," she replied, restraining herself.

Brighid, however, didn't let restraint contain her. "You're not looking well, your majesty," she said, putting a hand to her face. "Are you eating enough? Getting enough sleep?"

"Brighid," Morag muttered, nudging her. She should have known this would happen. Her blade had always had a soft spot for her brother, a mothering instinct for him that she rarely saw anywhere else. She wondered sometimes if it was because at many points in history, Brighid had been bonded to the Emperor.

"I want you to tell the cooks to start serving you more meat," Brighid continued severely, but Morag cut her off.

"Niall. These are...some of my friends. Rex, Nia, Dromarch, Tora, Poppi." She paused, gesturing towards Malos, who was still silent beneath his helmet, his armor covering his core crystal. "And this...is the Aegis."

Niall rose from his chair, and Morag's eagle eyes noted how his legs trembled a bit as he rose. He had always been a bit of a sick child, Morag acting as his protector, and she had really never stopped thinking of herself that way. "Amazing," Niall murmured, walking towards the Aegis, who towered over him, looming. "I...does he talk?"

In a burst of black sparks, Malos' helmet disappeared. "Boo," he said, smirking down at the boy Emperor.

"Hmm. Well, I suppose that answers that." Niall raised an eyebrow at the blade. "And...who is his driver…?"

"That would be me!" Rex said, stepping forward proudly.

Niall walked forward to approach him. It seemed so odd, to Rex, that the Emperor of Mor Ardain, perhaps the most powerful country in the world, might be a boy younger than even he was. "Hmmm," Niall hummed to himself, looking Rex up and down. "I must admit, not what I was expecting."

"Yeah, yeah. Too young, right?"

Niall blinked. "No. Not at all. You look...like a good person. Anyone who awoke the Aegis, I was expecting them to be the sort of person who had a lot of nasty ideas about how to use them." The Emperor smiled sadly to himself. "You meet a lot of people like that, in my line of work. You learn to spot them. It's something in their eyes. Although my sister has been the one traveling with you for months. I suppose I should ask her what her assessment is."

Morag glanced towards Rex, then nodded. "I'll vouch for that. I think Rex is a very good person. A little hardheaded and reckless, maybe."

Nia snorted. "Oh, a little, huh."

Rex blushed, rubbing the back of his head. "Aw. I mean, I'm just an average guy, I think."

"And what is it you plan on using the Aegis for?"

Rex glanced up, looking at the Emperor, who was staring at him intently. "Well. I mean, I'm not really using him for anything, I don't think. We've got a partnership going. We're gonna get to Elysium. We're going to find a land with enough bounty for everyone to live in peace."

Niall was quiet for a long moment. He looked up at Malos, who was busy examining his fingers. "Elysium," he said, as if lost in thought. Finally, he nodded. "Right. Well. I understand you'll be visiting Mor Ardain for a while. I hope you can find the time to talk with me a bit more later. You all are welcome here as my guests, and you're welcome to use the imperial guest suites." He grimaced. Normally those were rooms reserved for diplomats, but visiting dignitaries were scarce in Mor Ardain these days. "We...ought to get you some uniforms, as well. It's better to wear the military dress in Mor Ardain. Everyone does these days...and...well, you draw attention if you aren't wearing it. I'll ask to have some bought up to your rooms." He closed his eyes as he suddenly staggered, catching himself against a nearby chair, a hand going to his head to rub his temples. His legs shook again, and Morag finally couldn't stand it. She rushed to his side, helping him settle into the chair. "I apologize," he said, after a moment, voice unsteady. "I would...like some time with Morag, if that's alright. I promise, we can talk more later." He opened his eyes, summoning the strength to smile at the group. "Please, ask the soldiers outside the door to guide you to the suites. You'll find food and hot baths there."

Malos lingered by her brother's side, as the group slowly made their way out the throne room doors. Her eyes were scanning him. The slight tremor in his arms. The shaking in his legs. His shallow breath, the dark circles beneath his eyes. Brighid stood by her side, but Morag gave her a meaningful look, and her blade read it perfectly. She nodded, and followed the group out the doors, as well.

Once they had closed behind them, with a small click, Niall sighed again.

"Niall, you look...unwell," Morag said, quietly.

"It's this war," Niall muttered, quietly. "Brionac's got almost the entire Senate in the palm of their hand. I can't count on anyone anymore. I have to stay up almost all night just to make sure they don't pass bills to initiate an invasion behind my back. It barely gives me any time for negotiating...but...well. Enough of that. I'm glad you're here. I was worried about you." He chuckled, softly. "Good to see that Brighid is the same as ever, too."

"You should take better care of yourself," Morag replied. "Surely...there must be someone who can help-"

"There's no one left," Niall replied. "I feel like I'm the only person left in government holding back the invasion. I...have to push myself, Morag. It is my duty. I might get tired, but thousands of lives hang in the balance. I've...already failed by being unable to stop the war." Niall shook his head. "I know...it seems silly, but I know, in my gut, that if we invade Uraya, it's going to go horribly wrong. It's going to be bloodier than anyone's predicting. I can't let it happen, I can't fail again. It's my duty. Other people die to serve their country, the least I could do is stay up a little late."

Morag was quiet for a long moment. "And...how does it go? Stopping the war?"

"I've given up on trying to stop it through the Senate. It's a hopeless case. The only hope now is that Uraya comes to the negotiating table with some concessions. And I can't even accept those unless they're pretty hefty concessions, otherwise the Senate will reject their peace offer." Niall held his had in his hands. "I think I might be able to get them to come to the table, but I need more time. Time I don't have. I can't fail them again. I can't keep on failing my people. I can't..."

Surprising herself, Morag leaned in and wrapped her arms around her brother, hugging him. He froze, for a moment, in her arms, surprised by the rare display of affection, and then wrapped his arms around her as well. Morag found herself remembering, as she looked at the wall, what it had been like growing up. Holding her baby brother in her arms for the first time, comforting him when he had come to her with skinned knees, watching over him during his many, frequent childhood sicknesses. She hadn't thought about it for a while – they had seen each other less and less ever since he had assumed the duties of Emperor, and she had been incorporated into Mor Ardain's military leadership – but she remembered how much seeing his smile had cheered her up, when she was younger. How much she had enjoyed watching his innocent exploration of the world as he grew. How innocent he had always seemed to her. How innocent he seemed, still. "I should have been here to help you," she said, quietly.

Niall laughed, breaking off from her embrace, holding her arms. "No, no. Mor Ardain's flamebringer is much more at home on the battlefield. Besides, you had an important mission. You found the Aegis."

Morag cleared her throat, standing again, as Niall rose. She was somewhat embarrassed by her display of affection. "So. What did you think?"

"It seems to me like the Aegis ended up in the best possible place he could be, all things considered," mused Niall, pacing back and forth, a habit Morag recognized as meaning that her brother was deep in thought. "No tipping the scales towards either side of our war. Not in the hands of some lunatic. Just in the hands of a young boy on an idealistic quest for Elyisum." He stopped, staring at his hands. "Although, the way things have been going, I'm starting to think that Elysium is our only hope in the long term myself."

Morag was quiet for a moment, worry once again shooting through her for her younger brother. Niall had always been the practical sort. For him to say something like that...she knew things must be very bad indeed. "While I'm here," she said, finally, "What can I do to help you stop the invasion?"

Niall considered this for a moment. "I'm not sure how the Senate plans on going around me," he replied. "I do still retain final say in all military matters. And they seem to have given up on trying to sneak bills through behind my back. But they definitely do think they can get around me. You saw yourself how...bold...Sylvie has become. They're up to something. What I'd really need is someone to spy and try to pick up through conversation what their plans are, but you...well, you probably wouldn't be too good for that, right? But maybe your friends...I hate to ask it of them, but..."

"I'll definitely talk it over with them," Morag swiftly promised. "I think they'd be glad to help."

Niall smiled at her. "Thank you," he said. Then he sighed, gesturing at his desk, which had a large stack of papers on it. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I have to go back to reading bills to ensure nothing's snuck by me…."

Morag thought back to the executions she had witnessed walking into the city. She knew, certainly, that her brother wouldn't have approved of those. And he did ultimately have veto power over every law. She wondered whether that might have been some change, snuck in through the bills, that he had missed. Did he even know they were happening? It seemed as if he was so busy that he had been trapped in the palace for the past few months. She ought to bring it up with him. But not now, when he was so exhausted, and so glad to see her. She didn't need to add to his burdens right now. Maybe when she had helped him out a bit, made things a bit less stressful for him.

"Would you like some help?" she asked, considering. "I never did get into lawmaking. But I still remember my lessons on legislature."

"I couldn't ask..."

"I would be glad to." Morag pulled up a chair. "At least I can make it a bit quicker for you. Let's send out for some food, and power through this together."

"I...well. If you insist."

It was only a few hours of reading later that Morag found herself reading alone. Niall had collapsed at his desk, snoring, exhausted, in a deep sleep. Morag smiled at him, and gently plucked him up from his chair, carrying him to his apartment off from the side of the throne room, laying him down in his bed. He snapped awake, despite her caution as she did so. "Oh..." he said, glancing around. "Oh, no, Morag, I...should get back to reading..."

"Don't worry. It's almost done. I can finish up. Just one more bill to read through."

"I…are you certain? Maybe I should-"

"No," Morag said firmly, pushing him back into his bed as he attempted to sit up. "No. It's fine. Yo get your rest."

Niall surrendered, finally, laying back in his bed and closing his eyes. "Thank you, Morag. I'm...happy you're here," he murmured. And moments later, he had crashed completely, falling swiftly into a deep sleep.

Morag turned to go, but lingered at the doorway, looking at the sleeping form of her brother for some time. "Good night, Niall," she whispered, finally.

**13.**

Rex sighed, folding his arms, sweating against the brutal midday Ardainian sun.

It had been a few days since they had arrived in Mor Ardain. Morag had spoken with them all about how she wanted to help her brother. Rex agreed with her that they ought to stop the invasion, but he wasn't sure how much he could do, really, to help. Morag had said that they should try to gather information, but Rex wasn't sure, personally, how he could help doing that.

He had found himself walking outside the palace often, out into a large courtyard of concrete, ringed by large walls of black stone, not far from the palace itself, where the Ardainian military practiced their movements.

It was hard not to be impressed by the Ardainian military. The Empire had a long military tradition. Whereas Urayan soldiers had a history of mercenary work, and fighting in small bands, the Ardainian military concentrated much more on large, coordinated movements. The average Urayan might be larger and stronger than the average Ardainian, but watching the Ardainian soldiers at work, it was clear they knew how to be part of a much larger, well-oiled war machine. The mass coordination of their movements, as they practiced raids, charges...Urayans might be warriors, but Ardainians were strict professionals.

But still, as much as Rex might have enjoyed watching their training, he had been hoping to get in some training of his own. He had been waking up early the past couple of days, coming out to the courtyard with Malos, hoping to get in a duel, or preferably, practice with his Aegis powers. But no matter how early he woke, someone was always already there. He had begun to wonder if there were soldiers that were practicing in this plaza at all hours of the day, if it would be simply impossible to find some time to himself to practice.

Malos stood by his side, coolly observing the Ardainians at their drills. He was dressed in a sharp, Ardainian officer's uniform, one that had been fit to him by the diplomatic staff at the imperial suites. As was Rex himself – long black trenchcoat, sharp black dress uniform beneath, covering up his core crystal, peaked officer's cap, similar to Morag's. It was part of what made the heat so awful, for Rex. He didn't know how the Ardainians could bear to wear uniforms like this in all this heat. But then again, it seemed like it didn't phase most of them. Perhaps their bodies acclimated to it. And Malos himself didn't seem all that bothered by it, either. But then again, who knew how an Aegis worked. Maybe Malos could stand in an oven and not break a sweat.

"So, what d'you think?" Rex asked his blade, breaking the silence.

Malos looked down at him, raising an eyebrow quizzically. "About what?"

"The soldiers. They seem pretty well-trained, yeah?"

Malos sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "They're…definitely some of the most impressive I've ever seen. I wouldn't put Uraya's odds as very good."

Rex took off his cap, mopping sweat from his brow. "What do you think we should do? Morag told us to try to gather info on what Brionac is planning. Should we...sit in and practice with the soldiers or something? I don't think the common soldier would have any idea what's going on."

"Yeah, me neither," Malos mused. "Maybe the officers, but if they're smart at all they're going to be tight-lipped about it."

"Maybe our best bet is to just use our disguises to try to sneak around and try to see if there's any documentation-"

"HEY! YOU, BRAT!"

Malos and Rex glanced up from their muttered, quiet conversation, to see an Ardainian soldier striding quickly across the concrete toward them, his face flashing anger. "You! Yeah, you! No, stop-stop looking around. Titan's arse. You." 

"Me?" Malos said, pointing to himself quizzically.

"No-no, for the love of-the short one. Next to you. YOU."

Rex looked around uncertainly. "Uh...hello. Do I know you?"

"I know YOU, boy. You're the salvager from Goldmouth." The soldier brushed back gray-flecked black hair from his forehead. He was older, stern, looking to be perhaps forty, face tanned as leather from many years in the brutal Ardainian sun, eyes cold blue.

"Look, you're gonna have to be more specific. I knew tons of Ardainians in Goldmouth."

The older man seethed. "Captain Chiragh. Do you remember now…?"

"No."

Malos was growing irritated. "Look, Captain Chirgle, or whatever. We were in the middle of a conversation."

"It's Chiragh," the soldier snapped. "And because of this little brat, I'm not a Captain anymore. I got busted down to private because of him!"

Rex rolled his eyes. "Oh, I remember you now. Look here, you weren't busted down to Private because of me. You and your goons ganged up on me and Bana rightly kicked you out of Goldmouth for it. It's your own damn fault. None of this would have happened if you hadn't decided to harass salvagers while you were there."

"Wow." Malos crossed his arms, looking down at Rex. "You were always getting your ass kicked, even before we met, huh."

"I wouldn't have had to beat you if you had just complied with the search!" Chriagh roared back. "You ruined my life, you little jerk. Do you know how much Private pays compared to Captain? Less than half! I lost more than half my paycheck, because of you!"

"I mean, I don't know what you want me to say. Sorry, I suppose." Then Rex tapped a foot, considering. Normally, he might have let something like this go, but the heat was getting to him, making him angry. "Actually, you know what, I'm not sorry at all. I'm not sorry that you got demoted. You got what you deserved, as far as I'm concerned."

Chiragh twitched, and for a moment looked as if he might leap for Rex's throat. Malos stepped forward, looming over the man, the shadow he cast almost completely enveloping him. "Are you really, really sure that's what you want to do?" Malos said, quietly, so that only Chiragh could hear. "Think very carefully about this."

Chiragh gulped, looking up at the Aegis towering over him. But he steeled himself, and turned his flinty glare back on Rex, who was looking at him with a little smirk. "No, I'm sorry," he said finally. "I should have done the honorable thing, and beat your ass myself, one on one, man to man, rather than having my men gang up on you."

"Oh, you think you could do that, now, old man?" Rex snapped. This damn heat really was getting to him. Everything was getting on his nerves, his anger spilling over when it didn't really matter. "You almost needed a cane just walking over here, you think you can fight me now?" 

Malos snickered, as Chiragh's eyes went wide. "I'm not old, I'm thirty six," he snapped irritably. "That's not old!"

"Wow. Do all Ardainians age like bananas? Or is it just you?"

Malos laughed and high-fived Rex. The younger boy stood back, arms folded, smirking up at Chiragh as he seethed. "You little brat. You think you're so good, why don't we fight right here, right now? The soldiers are sparring. I formally invite you to join us for a round against me. Time to get my payback for Goldmouth."

"Oh, you really want to do this?" Rex said, yanking his overcoat off, then his overshirt. "Fine. Let's do it. Let's go."

"You. Uh, you didn't have to take your shirt off."

"I was hot!" Rex yelled. "Let's go!"

Malos reached out, putting an arm on Rex's shoulder, as he went to follow Chiragh over to the sparring soldiers. "Hey, Rex. You want me to-"

"No, no," Rex replied. "I want this to be a nice fair brawl. No Aegis powers, just fists. I can take him."

Malos nodded, understanding, crossing his arms, tracking his driver as he stomped across the courtyard to square up against Chiragh, who was waiting in the middle of a ring of watching soldiers. The fight had just barely begun when Rex, with a wild yell, immediately leapt at Chiragh, swinging wildly. Malos watched with amusement as the soldier stumbled back in surprise. Chiragh was certainly more disciplined, but Rex had the boundless energy of youth, and wasn't exactly an incompetent when it came to fighting himself.

"Enthusiastic little guy, isn't he," a voice mused from beside him. Malos glanced down to his side, his eyes widening in surprise to see Sylvie, the Senator that had been arguing with the Emperor when they first entered the throne room. She was dressed in her officer's uniform as well, looking slightly uncomfortable in the sweltering heat herself, staring out across the courtyard at the fight. Malos wondered how long she had been standing there. He hadn't heard her approach at all. "Gotta say, I admire it, though."

"Yeah, sure. I mean, he can be a little dumb, sometimes, but – oof, that was a good one," Malos said, eyes widening, as one of Rex's fists connected with Chiragh's face.

"So, I suppose you were the one in the throne room all dressed up in fancy black armor when I was there," Sylvie continued. She gave him an intense, appraising look. "You look better in the Ardainian uniform, I think. Gotta say, you're a good-looking one."

"Uh. Thanks." He glanced down at her suspiciously, then shrugged. Well, she was right. He _was _pretty handsome. He winced as a kick from Chiragh connected to Rex's midriff, knocking the wind out of him.

"So how do you know him?"

"We were...both mercenaries," Malos lied, quickly. "Known him for a while through there. Feel a little protective of the kid, you know."

"Oh, Uraya and her mercenaries," Sylvie mused, watching the fight with interest as Rex tackled Chiragh to the ground and got him in a chokehold. Then a watch on her wrist made a small, shrill ringing sound, and she glanced at it with annoyance. "Damn. Forgot I have a meeting in five minutes." She looked up at Malos. "Alright. I'll make this quick. I think you're a handsome guy, so I want to take you on a date. Tomorrow night, eight o clock. Meet me here and we'll go to a restaurant. One I choose. Sound good?"

"Wait, what?" Malos replied, eyes widening. "I-"

Sylvie clicked her tongue in irritation, brushing some of her sea-green hair out of her eyes. "I don't have time to wait around while you decide. Tell you what. I'll just swing by tomorrow at eight, and if you're here, you're here." She spun on her heels, shouting orders to someone behind her. "Travis! Bring the truck around! We need to be back at the palace in five! Make sure you have my report-"

Meanwhile, Rex had his elbow wrapped around Chiragh's throat, applying pressure. "Come on now," he growled, as the soldier struggled against him. "Tap out. Come on, I got you, just tap out."

Chiragh gave a gurgling growl of frustration, then slapped the ground next to him, swallowing air in a massive gasp. Rex staggered to his feet, holding a hand to his aching ribs. "Alright," he panted. "Good fight. Good fight. We're even now."

"Even," wheezed Chiragh. "You...got me demoted...and now you beat on me, an old man, delinquent youth taking advantage….of my age..."

"Oh come ON!" Rex cried, as Chiragh crawled away, cursing his name. "Come on! We can be friends now, you know, have a punchout, then drink to forget-"

"I'LL NEVER FORGET!" cried Chiragh as he finally struggled to his feet, running away.

Rex shook his head, making his way back to Malos, who stood, staring off into the distance, a bemused expression on his face. "Hey. Hey! Did something happen?" Rex asked, snapping Malos out of his reverie.

"I think," Malos replied, "A golden opportunity to get some information for Morag just dropped into my lap."

**14.**

Nia sighed as she stared at herself in the mirror.

She was in the imperial suite's common room. The suite was shared – Morag, Brighid, Poppi and herself all had individual bedrooms, though she hadn't seen Morag that much over the past few days. The suites themselves were impressive – fancier, even, than the mansion Nia had lived earlier in her life. Thick carpets that felt like walking on clouds, luxurious beds that you could sink into, and the staff delivered fresh fruit to the common room every morning. Everything was bright and golden, much like the throne room had been. Decadent, is the word that Nia would have used. The bedrooms opened up into a common shared space, with a full body-length mirror in one of the corners that Nia was staring into now. Dromarch was lounging on one of the couches nearby, his purr a deep, comforting rumble.

Morag had asked them to help her find out some information on the Brionac political party, which Nia had gathered were her brother's main political opposition in Mor Ardain. She wasn't sure how she felt about spying on political opponents of the Emperor, but Morag had asked her to trust that this was one of the only ways they might have to delay or even stop the invasion of Uraya. Rex and Malos, she had sent out to talk with the soldiers, and see if they could find any information there. But Nia...she had asked Nia to hobnob and socialize with some of the Senators and political players in the palace itself, knowing that Nia had grown up among nobility.

Nia hadn't been so opposed to the idea. Sure, it had sounded like it would probably be annoying. But she considered Morag a friend, and was glad to swallow her complaints and help her out for a bit. But…

The suite's staff had been asked to bring her a selection of dresses for an upcoming ball at the palace. And they had gone out of their way to give her a great selection. Nia wasn't necessarily opposed to dresses. She did tend to prefer the simpler ones, simpler than the dresses that the imperial staff had given her.

Seeing she was Gormotti, they had come up with a selection of dresses befitting Gormotti nobility. Which tended to be...a bit revealing. And since this was Mor Ardain, they had given her a selection that Nia recognized as commonly being called "Gormotti in the Ardainian style", which were yet more revealing still. Not that they were scandalous. Her favorite from all the dresses, the one she was wearing now, was a dress layered and colored like the fading leaves of autumn, the top of which left her back bare down to her waist. The skirt billowed out at her waist, and was tapered, so that in the middle it came down past her knees, but at the sides it rose to mid-thigh. None of this was really a problem, either. Nia had worn more revealing things before.

What was a problem, though…

Nia sighed again as she looked into the mirror. The plunging neckline of the dress left her shoulders bare, and revealed her core crystal. She winced as she looked at it, blue flecked with red. All the dresses had been like this. There wasn't even a single one with a neckline that hid her core.

It irritated her, to be honest. She'd love to have the ability to dress the way she wanted. And if there was one thing Nia liked about herself, it was the way she looked. It was just another chain from her past, hanging down on her constantly, an endless, forever reminder of the awful things she'd done, how so much of the world wanted her dead, her failures -

She shook her head. It wasn't healthy to think that way, and she had sworn to herself that she was going to stop it. She adjusted the headpiece the dress came with, a small crown of brambles dotted with small red flowers. "What do you think, Dromarch?" she asked, resignedly, twirling around.

Dromarch lifted his head, groggily. "Hmm. A nice dress. Your core, though..."

"Yeah, yeah," she sighed again, turning back to the mirror. Would there ever be a day when that damn crystal wasn't weighing constantly on her mind?

She didn't notice the door to the common area opening from the hallway. Didn't notice anything at all, until she heard Brighid calling out, "Oh, hello, Nia."

Nia gasped, clasping her hands to her core crystal to cover it, and whirled around, eyes wide in panic. Brighid was carrying a bag and plucking a series of blue candles out of it, laying them on the counter. "Don't you knock?!" Nia shouted, still panicked.

Brighid's brow furrowed. "This...is the common area. I shouldn't have to knock. What were you doing in here….? Oh. Now that is an exquisite dress, Nia. Looks good on you." Her eyes narrowed at the sight of Dromarch on the couch, and then flicked back to Nia, puzzled. "What...are you covering up there?"

"Nothing," Nia said, and at the same time, Dromarch leaped down from the couch and said, "A scar."

"That's right, a scar," Nia switched quickly, while Dromarch said "Oh wait, I mean nothing."

Brighid stared at them both, skeptical. "Well," she said finally, continuing to lay candles on the counter, "If it's a scar, and you're worried about it showing in that dress, why don't you show it to me? I'm quite skilled with makeup, it can probably be covered."

"No no, it's not necessary, I'll just ask the staff for a different dress..."

"Oh, but that one really does suit you. Here, I'll go fetch my kit." Brighid strode over to her room.

"Wait!" Nia shouted, panicked, eyes wide.

Brighid froze, then turned around to face her, arms folded. "If you don't want to..." she began.

Nia sighed, then summoned her courage. "Brighid...you told me once that...if I wanted to, I could tell you any secret I wanted. Right?" Her cheeks burned, and she forced herself to make contact with the blade. "Any secret. Any at all. Can I trust you?"

Brighid found worry growing in her heart for the young girl. She had kept a careful eye on her, ever since they had first found her wandering around in a funk back in Garfont. She could tell, from the shadows in Nia's eyes, from the worry that crossed her face, from the sadness that snuck into her expression when she thought no one was looking, that Nia...had things weighing on her mind. She sort of admired the girl, for still managing to be so upbeat so much of the time. But if she needed someone to confide in…. "of course, Nia."

"You can't tell anyone. Anyone at all. Not even Morag, okay?" Nia stomped her foot, leaning forward to glare at Brighid. "Not a soul. Do you promise?"

Brighid raised her right hand. "I solemnly swear, on my name as the jewel of Mor Ardain, not to spread your secrets," she said, utterly serious.

Nia paused, staring at her for a moment, her heart pumping. It was...hard for her to reveal to others her secret. Too many had...repaid that sort of intimacy with betrayal. But Morag and Brighid...they...well, Nia was no fool, she could tell they worried about her, and they cared. And besides, Malos knew already, and he wasn't so much of an asshole that he'd go blabbing about it to everyone, so maybe Brighid could know too, and it would be okay…

With a sigh, Nia lowered her hands. Brighid's eyes widened to see the core crystal embedded in her chest. "You...you're a blade, a..."

"A Flesh Eater," Nia said quietly. She looked away from Brighid, not wanting to stare at her face. "Still gonna keep your promise…?"

"Of...of course I will, Nia," Brighid said quietly, crossing the room to take a closer look at the young blade. "Does….anyone else know?"

"Well. Dromarch, of course." Nia glanced over at her blade, who was pacing across the carpet nervously, tail twitching, staring intently at Brighid, as if he was evaluating whether he could trust her or if he would have to maul her. "And...Malos. That bastard saw right through me, guessed it right away. But that's all."

Brighid was quiet for a moment. Nia, a Flesh Eater. Flesh Eaters...had a bad reputation. At least according to Indol, the way a blade became a Flesh Eater was when they went wild, and literally devoured their driver. And in Mor Ardain, Indol's word on the subject was very much accepted. Brighid had never given it much thought herself. She had...entries in her journal, about Minoth, or Cole, whatever he wanted to call himself, which suggested that Flesh Eaters were not the complete monsters that Indol said they were. She couldn't help but wonder...but Nia was such a sweet girl. She couldn't imagine her turning on her driver and devouring them. And she had trusted her enough to reveal her secret. "Well," Brighid said quietly. "Don't worry. We'll keep it just between us blades, right?"

"You see the problem though, right," Nia said sullenly. "I can't exactly wear this dress. Ach, I'm just going to have to ask for them to bring me a new one." She glanced at herself in the mirror again, smirking. "It's too bad. I really do look good in this."

Brighid considered carefully. "Hm. Not necessarily. Here, put your...ah, what do you call it? Your...yellow suit-"

"My jumpsuit?"

Brighid nodded. "Yes, that. Put that on, and come with me."

"Where…?"

Brighid smiled. "Mor Ardain may be low on food, but we have some of the best shops in the world. We can find something to help you out here, I'm certain."

Once Nia had gotten dressed, the fiery blue blade led her out of the palace, out into the cobblestone streets of Mor Ardain. The heat was utterly oppressive. But Brighid preferred the heat – in fact, was much more comfortable in the scorching, dry environment of Mor Ardain than almost anywhere else.

She led Nia out of the mansions and rich decadence of the nobility district surrounding the palace, down into a commercial district. Nia's eyes widened as the streets gave way from mansions to shops and street fairs. The bounty of Mor Ardain's industrialism was incredible – single shops sold more items than might be available in an entire Gormotti town. She was struck again by the gap in wealth between Mor Ardain and Gormott. True, there were few food shops – and the restaurants she saw offered meager fare. But the other shops – wonders unseen anywhere else in the world. Here, a shop of finely woven glass, each of the quality it would have taken a master glass smith weeks to forge, sold so cheaply that the shopkeep didn't even care when a customer accidentally knocked one to the street, smashing it. And here, an instrument shop – selling _all kinds_ of instruments, not just specializing in a single kind, including humongous pianos that even Gormotti nobility might not be able to afford, the kind that might take a master craftsman years to complete. Shops full of little mechanicle baubles that shot sparks and whirred and beeped, books manufactured by printing press by the thousands, a scavenger's shop lined with _hundreds, literally hundreds _of scavenger's suits – every street a new cornucopia of wonders.

And the people, the people – so confident, brazen, laughing...so much happier than they seemed in other countries, as if they knew the world belonged to them, as if they knew they were part of a machine that held the world in its grasp. She found herself thinking of the Senator that had been in the Emperor's throne room, Sylvie. She had wondered why an Urayan would give up her home country to become part of the machine that was so intent on grinding it to dust. She had wondered much the same when she had been growing up with her father – why was it that so many Gormotti were so willing to become part of the Ardainian machine, when barely a generation ago, the Ardainians had been drowning their country in blood?

This was why. The wealth, the power, the optimism and the energy – they joined Mor Ardain because it stood atop the world, and because Mor Ardain would have them. And there was something alluring about that. The idea of completely forgetting the past, and joining Mor Ardain in happiness and power. In the streets of Mor Ardain, there were not many reminders of the past. In Torigoth, or other Gormotti cities, you might come across constant reminders of the past – buildings century old, worn with time, businesses owned by families for generations – trees that might still be pockmarked by bullets, bearing the scars of recent wars, and...many things you might buy in Gormott, the shopkeepers would be glad to tell you how they were part of a tradition that went back centuries. There was none of that in Mor Ardain. Buildings were constantly repaired, refurbished, so that they looked brand new. The shopkeeps they talked to, they were always talking about how they were the first in their family to own a business. Nothing you could buy in Mor Ardain came with a story. It was there, spewed forth from one of Mor Ardain's countless factories, and it was no link to the past – it was there for you to have, it was there for you to do what you wished with. There was no sense of guilt if you broke it by accident – it was no part of a larger story, it simply was. And people never talked about past wars, or the past at all, really – Nia heard many conversations about the newest technological advancement, or some new factory opening, or new business acquisitions by one of Mor Ardain's many powerful corporations. And maybe that was dangerous, in a way, to be severed so completely from the past. But in many ways, it was beautiful. From its every pore, Mor Ardain told its citizens: The past did not matter. Victory and progress did. And maybe that was why Mor Ardain seemed to have such a hard problem understanding how the rest of the world viewed it: Once one bloody conquest was done, it was done, it was in the past, and Mor Ardain was on to the next. But Nia could understand, see the allure, the seduction of wanting to forget your past, completely...no matter how awful it was, no matter how much guilt was in it, if you could severe it completely from your mind...

Brighid led the wide-eyed and impressed Nia into a clothing shop, one the size of a warehouse, this one shop containing enough clothes to give probably an entire small town a new outfit. Nia whistled as she passed by huge racks with hundreds of dresses, then suddenly she paused, grabbing at one. "Wait. This is the exact dress they bought me in the suite!"

Brighid looked back, then raised an eyebrow. "Ah. So it is."

"But..." Nia furrowed her brow. "I...I dunno. I guess it just seems a bit odd to me that something they bring you in the palace, you can go out and buy on the street. I mean...yeah, sure, it's...expensive..."

Brighid laughed. "Oh, believe me. We had palace seamstresses with the same complaint. They can't design anything anymore that some factory owner here can't replicate in a couple of days, and manufacture by the thousands. It's created a whole fashion cycle. The designers in the palace create something new, the factory owners see it and mass-produce it, and once it's cheap enough for the commoners to wear it's no longer fashionable. Don't worry, that dress you chose is still considered high fashion."

Brighid began walking slower through the aisles, finally stopping before a table laid out with a series of shawls. She hummed to herself, considering, then plucked up one, in a faded red. "I think this will match with that dress rather well," she said, after examining its quality for a few moments. "Don't you?"

"Ah, a shawl?" Nia crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side. "I mean, I suppose that'll work. But it will make me look a bit like a grandma, don't you think?"

"Oh, not necessarily," Brighid replied idly. "You could put it up in a cross-loop."

"A what?"

Brighid raised one of her eyebrows slightly. "What, you never heard of that?" She glanced around. "Here. Come with me to the dressing rooms."

Brighid led Nia to a closed-off area, where various customers could try on clothes before they purchased them. Quickly checking around to make sure that there were no other customers around, she turned to Nia. "Right. Unzip that jumpsuit, and I'll show you how to make a cross-loop." 

Brighid's hands worked in a blur, deftly folding and twisting the shawl as she gave instructions, but Nia could not possibly keep up with her. With a few quick twists and knots, she draped the shawl around Nia's neck, crossing it across her chest, covering her core, and then beneath her arms to tie up around the back of the shawl. The final effect was something that looked a bit like a choker, that crossed in an 'X' across Nia's chest, intersecting directly over her core, hiding it from view. "There you go," Brighid said, satisfied. "I don't think _that_ will make you look like a grandma, will it?"

"Wow, that's pretty good," Nia replied, admiring Brighid's handiwork. "But ah, I'd be worried that if I moved around, the core might slip out or something."

"That's what these are for," Brighid smiled, as she plucked some pins from the wall next to her. With quick hands, she deftly worked the pins into the shawl around around Nia's core crystal, until it was held firmly in place in an immobile, diamond-shaped knot.

"Wow," Nia said, flailing her arms around wildly, nearly hitting Brighid in the face, admiring in the nearby mirror how the shawl was tied so deftly that no matter her movements, her core crystal remained concealed. "Wow, I really have to hand it to you. This is perfect."

"Fashion's all about having a little ingenuity," Brighid smiled. "Now, let's get this paid for."

They left the store after paying, where Brighid was able to get the shawl for a steeply discounted price. She had said she was glad to pay full price, but the shopkeep insisted on giving a discount to one of the heroes of Mor Ardain and her friends. They slowly made their way back to the palace in the dimming light of day, enjoying the cooler night air as dusk overtook the city, appreciating the sights and sounds of the shopping district as it became just a bit less crowded and chaotic. Before heading back to the palace completely, they stopped to buy some juice at a stall to rehydrate, Brighid ordering a slightly alcoholic, mango cocktail, and Nia sipping on some refreshing, sweet watermelon juice. They sat at a nearby picnic table in the middle of the shopping plaza, watching the crowds pass by, enjoying a cool breeze that had begun to blow through the city.

"Hey, Brighid," Nia said, breaking the silence between them. "Look, I just….I wanted to say….thanks. To you and Morag, alright. You've both...ach, I dunno. I dunno how to say it. You're...very kind. And I know I don't deserve it. And..."

Brighid shook her head, firmly. "You need to stop thinking like that. Why wouldn't you deserve it? Did you forget, when my lady was on the verge of death, you were the one who healed her? I don't know what's in your past, Nia. But everything I've seen of you so far has told me you're a very sweet girl."

Nia sipped on her drink, considering. "Well. I dunno about sweet."

"Oh, you think that just because you've got a sharp tongue, I can't tell how sweet you are beneath it?" Brighid smiled primly. "What people say matters less than what they do. And I've seen you care for and worry about and heal the people around you the entire time I've known you. You've got a nurturing heart."

Nia blinked. She had honestly never thought of herself that way.

_That's because you know yourself better than these people do, Nia. You know that everything they know about you isn't the full picture. You think this woman knows you, just because she knows you're a Flesh Eater? There are darker secrets, aren't there? If she could see how you really were, deep down…_

With some effort, Nia banished the voice from her mind.

"Nia, if I might ask. Why...keep it a secret? From the others? I guess...well, it's mostly the humans who don't know now, right? And Poppi, I suppose." Brighid stirred her drink idly with her straw. "I think Lady Morag would definitely understand. And Rex...I don't think Rex would either. Do you?"

"No," Nia replied quietly. "I...I...just...I dunno. I just haven't told them, okay. I can't give a good reason. It's just...if they know that about me, maybe they'll find out other things about me." Suddenly, the voice swelled in her mind, and Nia put her drink down, rubbing her temples. Visions of Vandham's death danced through her head. Visions of her sister, who she had failed to save. Things she constantly had to convince herself that she didn't need to feel guilty over. And...was that true? Sometimes she didn't know. Was it true that she didn't need to feel guilt over them? Or was that just the comfortable lie she desperately wanted to tell herself? "If you knew me, really knew me, you'd know I'm not the good person you think I am. And...I don't want other people to find that out. Even if it's cruel to them...I just want them to keep on liking me, for a little while longer."

Brighid was quiet for a long moment. "Well. Again, I don't know your past, Nia. But do you really believe you're such an awful person?"

Nia paused, looking away, watching the crowds again. "Not...all the time. No."

"How much of you hating yourself do you suppose just might be entirely in your head?"

_None of it._

"I don't know." Nia toyed with her drink for a moment. "But...hey, let's...not talk about it. It doesn't matter. I got a ball to hobnob at, right? I ought to get back to the palace and brush up on all my fancy etiquette."

**Note: **

This one took some time to write, a lot of the scenes ended up being much longer than I originally planned. In fact, these three scenes, I originally had no plan to make them just a chapter on their own, but they ended up so long…

If I end up missing a week in an update, don't worry. I've been particularly busy lately, I will always try to stick to a weekly schedule, but I might miss one week here or there.

I think this chapter puts me over the edge, I think this is the longest pure-xenoblade 2 fanfic on ao3 now

As always please comment if you can!


	15. Chapter 15

**15.**

Tora bounced happily in his room, adjusting his bow tie. He was wearing a smart, crisp black suit, complete with monocle and top hat. He growled in annoyance, glancing over to the bureau in his suite, carved out of rich mahogany. A mirror was on top of it, but he couldn't see himself in it – the Ardainians had not built their diplomatic suites for someone of a nopon's stature. It irked Tora a bit. He knew the nopon trade guilds were some of the few in the world still doing business with Mor Ardain. And yet even now, they overlooked them? Would it be so much to ask for a little respect for their steadfast business partners?

"Poppi, could you help your masterpon?" he chirped, pointing to the mirror. His blade was sitting on the edge of his bed, kicking her legs, looking thoughtful.

Absent-mindedly, she hopped off, picking up Tora so that he could see himself in the mirror. "Ah, yes," Tora said, smartly snapping the bow tie into its proper position. "Very good, yes yes." He squirmed, looking over his shoulder at Poppi. "What does Poppi think? Is masterpon looking smart and official?"

"Masterpon is looking very handsome," Poppi said distractedly, placing Tora down.

"Poppi has been very quiet. Is Poppi not excited? Meeting with rich Ardainian industrialists! Very impressed with Poppi's design." Tora preened, puffing himself up. "Of course they would be. None in world as advanced as Tora's designs-"

"Masterpon, we are supposed to be meeting with industrialists to investigate connections to Brionac party for Morag, not to show off Poppi's design," the mechanical girl chided.

"Well, yes," Tora admitted. "But is also exciting opportunity to show off Poppi, yes? Perhaps even get some investments for further research into artificial blade technology."

"Industrialists not give up money for free..." Poppi murmured. "If they give you money, wouldn't they want access to Poppi's designs…?"

Tora laughed derisively, rubbing his hands together. "Poppi has not yet begun to see extent of nopon bartering tactics," he said, giving a sharp grin. "A little flash and dazzle, and silly humans always give up their money. Humans can be good friends, don't get Tora wrong! But very, very silly with money." He cocked his head to the side, looking up at Poppi. "Is that what Poppi is so worried about…? Do not worry, Poppi's designs are closely guarded secret. Would never give them up."

Poppi sighed, sitting back on the bed, again looking off into the distance thoughtfully. "Poppi...less worried about that," she said, sounding as if she wasn't quite sure if she believed him. "Poppi...thinking about something Senator who was meeting with Emperor said."

"What's that…?"

"Masterpon said Poppi was first and only artificial blade in the world," the robot girl said, tapping her chest. "But….Senator knew Poppi was an artificial blade as soon as she saw Poppi. Like she knew what artificial blades were. How this possible…?"

Tora froze. "That...good point," he muttered to himself. He fidgeted, sadness suddenly creeping into his voice. "Tora's family...most advanced at building artificial blades...at cutting edge of research. Dadapon Tatazo and Grampypon SooSoo...during research, were in contact with Mor Ardain. Didn't seem like they had developed artificial blade technology of their own yet. They seemed far behind. But…." Tora's ears drooped, and he turned away from his blade, in case he found himself crying. "...but when...Dadapon and Grampypon's lab attacked, is true they stole Poppi's original designs and even prototype. Maybe...was Mor Ardain…that..." he shook his head, sniffling. "But no. Mor Ardain so behind, they not even know what to do with designs if they had them. Only people in world that could build artificial blades are Tora, Dadapon and Grampypon."

Poppi was silent for a moment. "Is it possible...that Tora's Dadapon and Grampypon might be alive?"

Tora covered his eyes with his wings, shivering. "I...I remember night attack happened. Tora's Grampypon was shot before his eyes. But...I suppose...Dadapon...Tora never actually see him die...Tora just assume…." He removed his wings, looking down at his hands. "Dadapon would never sell his designs...but...maybe Tora should have looked for him…?"

"Masterpon did best thing he could do in circumstances. Masterpon made Poppi. But maybe Tora's dadapon..."

Tora was, for once, calm, his normal happy bouncing stilled. "Is something to consider," he murmured. "Maybe...we ask industrialists what they know about artificial blades." He shook his head. "Ahh! So much stress. Now not only have to look for information for Morag, but look for dadapon as well."

"That what masterpon have friends for. They help him, Poppi is sure of it. After all, Tora is helping them! Would be rude not to."

Tora looked up at his bureau, towering above him. "Yes, rude," he muttered. Then he shook himself. "Ah! Well. Still. Excited to meet industrialists and maybe get investments. Other things...cannot get hopes up. Might be simple explanation. Tora...miss Dadapon more than anything in the world. But Tora accepted he gone long ago. Cannot get hopes up too much."

Suddenly he was surprised by Poppi's metallic arms wrapping around him from behind. "Masterpon can be very mature, when he wants to be," Poppi said quietly.

"Hmmph. Masterpon is mature all the time," Tora muttered. Then he drew in a breath, glancing over his shoulder at his artificial blade. "Poppi! Ball happening very soon. Run one last internal diagnostics test. We want to put best foot forward, yes?"

Poppi snapped to attention, saluting the small nopon. "Aye aye, masterpon!" She closed her eyes, and with a small, silent whir, began her self-diagnostics procedure.

Tora watched her for a moment, then nodded. He walked to a window, dragging over a chair with some annoyance so that he look out of it.

The landscape of Alba Cavanich was an endless stretch of smokestacks, smoldering, thick smoke rising into the sky from countless factories, leading to a permanent cloud hanging over the city, through which the sunlight filtered, dirty and orange. Tora had always heard much about Mor Ardain, and admired them quite a bit. No other nation in the world had the ingenuity they had. They might be behind Tora's family in terms of research, but they were an entire country that had embraced technology as a solution to their problems. Tora could appreciate that.

Despite himself, he found himself wondering, as he looked over the endless stretch of factories, whether his father was out there, somewhere, in the city.

**16.**

Nia hummed to herself happily, swaying across the public room of the imperial suite. For some reason, she found herself in high spirits. Brighid's solution to her dress problem worked out quite nicely, and it cheered her up just to see herself in the mirror. The more she saw the dress on her, the more she found herself liking it. Even if it was a bit on the fancy side, it really did look rather nice, leaf-like cloth woven together in a blend of autumn colors. Brighid herself had already left for the ball, with Morag and an obsidian-faced, stoically silent blade who called himself Aegaeon.

Dromarch watched as his lady admired herself in the mirror, smiling to herself, as he lounged on the luxurious couches the diplomatic suite had to offer. The one in the girl's room was positioned directly in the sunlight cast by a large window, and had easily become his new favorite resting spot. And the girls didn't seem to mind much that he spent his time there with Nia. One of the benefits of being a cat, he supposed. "My lady certainly seems in high spirits," he mused.

"Yeah, you know, I am," Nia replied, spinning around. "I dunno, I just feel cheerful." She was a little puzzled, honestly. Normally she wouldn't exactly be looking forward to dealing with a bunch of stuffy nobles. But for some reason...she didn't know why, exactly. But many of the things from her past that usually weighed her down seemed...smaller, right now, for some reason.

Dromarch was glad to see her like this. He might not know everything about how Nia thought, even with his ether connection to her. But through years of companionship, he knew...it might not seem like it, but she had a naturally happy disposition. It was often clouded over by something or other, but when those clouds parted, when she felt free, it shone through. Still, he thought he had an idea of why she might be feeling so cheerful in particular at this moment.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door to the suite. Nia glanced at herself in the mirror one last time, then strode across the room to answer it.

On the other side was Rex. But he looked as she had never seen him before. She had always seen him in his salvager's outfit, dressed up as a mercenary, or more recently, walking around the diplomatic suites in an Ardainian officer's field outfit. But this…

Rex was dressed up in an Ardainian officer's dress uniform. Crisp clothes so black that it seemed like they were drinking the light, with gleaming gold and bright red trim, a bright golden cord tying a small, shoulder-length cape in place over a long black overcoat, his golden eyes staring out at her from beneath the shadows of a crisp officer's cap. Nia's eyes widened. "Wow, don't you clean up good," she blurted.

Rex sighed, whipping his cap off. "All a bit much, if you ask me. I mean, come on, a cape? But the staff insisted." He looked at her, raising his eyebrows. "Wow, I like that dress. Looks cool."

"I know, right? A lot of the ones they gave me were just way too fancy. But I thought this one was nice." Nia twirled around, the hem of the dress billowing around her, and now it was Rex whose eyes widened as he saw the cut of the dress from behind, revealing Nia's back to below her waist. He blushed, trying to keep the thought of how nice her bare back looked out of his head.

But Nia had turned to face him again, and the sly twinkle in her eyes and her fanged grin told him she had seen his blush. "Oh, look at you," she laughed. "Look at that blush! Oh, that's adorable. It's just a little skin." She crossed her arms, smirking at him. "Didn't you tell me you grew up in Leftheria? Don't they have tons of beaches there? Haven't you seen girls in bikinis and everything before?"

"I have," Rex snapped. And then he paused for a moment. He had. He'd seen more skin than a bare back before. So why did seeing Nia's in particular embarrass him so much? And he realized, with a start, that it was because it was Nia. And...Nia was more than just a stranger to him. And more than a friend.

Nia, meanwhile, had turned around, her back to him again. "Oh! Look out Rex, it's my back," she taunted, laughing derisively, her own cheeks hot. The thought that she had made Rex blush was...filling her with a strange, daring energy. She wanted to embarrass him more. She had the strangest, crazy urge to turn around and bite him.

Rex, cheeks burning, glared at the Gormotti girl, and refusing to let her get the best of him, reached out and poked her back. Nia's hands shot to her mouth to suppress a squeak as a jolt ran up her spine and down her legs. "Hey! That tickles-okay, okay, I get the point-Ah! Stop! Bastard!"

She turned around, slightly out of breath, a light blush staining her cheeks, and the way she was smiling at him, the way her eyes twinkled, the slightly predatory look she had...there was just something about the way she looked that immediately left its mark in Rex's memory. It was nice to see her so happy, the happiest he'd seen her since Vandham's death. And she was so pretty when she laughed.

They both became aware of the silence that had been growing between them, as they both stood simply staring at each other. "Well," Nia said, finally, "Um. I guess we should get going to the ball. Oh, hold on, this thing comes with a headpiece, let me grab it real quick..."

She ran back into the common area, snatching the headpiece off of a small side table next to the couch Dromarch was lounging on. He glanced up at her, giving her a strange look. "What, what is it?" she asked, as she adjusted the small crown of brambles and flowers on her head.

Dromarch stretched luxirously, arching his back and giving a massive, frightening yawn, revealing his dagger-like fangs. "Oh, nothing. Just nice to see my lady enjoying herself so much." He cocked his head to the side, giving her what looked like a small wink. "Just be careful with how much you tease young Rex."

"I wasn't teasing," Nia snapped. "Whatever, lazybones. You just sleep on that couch all the time. Don't come crying to me if Brighid yells at you for getting fur all over it, you know."

She crossed the room back to Rex, who offered her his arm with a mocking, sarcastic flourish. "Alright, milady, are you ready to attend the ball," he said, doing his best imitation of a stuffy noble's accent. Which wasn't that good.

Nia cocked her eyebrow at him as she looped her arm around his. "Where'd you learn this etiquette? I was sure I was gonna have to stop you from embarrassing yourself all night tonight."

"Oh, the staff again," Rex said, rolling his eyes, as they began to stroll their way down the diplomatic suite's hallways towards the ballroom. "Once they heard you invited me to the ball, they started drilling me on all sorts of proper etiquette. Titan's arse, it's ridiculous. Tiny little rules for every little thing."

"Now you see why I hated it so much." She reached out and adjusted one of the golden pins adorning Rex's chest, setting it back into its proper angle. "Honestly, staff like that are usually real sticklers for the rules. Most nobles don't mind that much as long as you don't break some major ones."

"Oh? And what's a major one?"

"Well, varies from place to place, really," Nia said mischievously. "But in Mor Ardain, I know it's the height of bad manners to not pull out a chair for your lady, or not hold the door for her, or to let her go hungry or thirsty..."

"Wait," Rex snapped. "You're telling me I have to dote on you? You're bullshitting me, right?"

Nia glanced away, trying to stifle laughter. "Ohhhhhh, I dunno! Better not risk it, huh?"

"Is this...is this why you invited me to this thing? C'mon, you don't even like that sort of thing, do you?"

"No," Nia admitted. "But it is pretty fun watching you get all worked up." She squeezed his arm. "By the way, I invited you because Brighid told me she's been giving you some dance lessons. I wanna see if you've improved."

"Hey. Those were supposed to be secret..." Rex grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Well. I guess I never did say. But it was implicit. Implicit!"

They were nearing the ballroom, now, running into a line of well-dressed Senators and other nobility. The men were all dressed much like Rex was, in black, crisp military uniforms, while the women wore a variety of dazzling, colorful dresses, some of which were quite revealing. Rex realized with some surprise that Nia had actually chosen a fairly modest one. Down the hall were a pair of grand, tall, golden doors, lined with crystal-clear windows, at least forty feet tall. He didn't know what the use of doors like that could possibly be. It must take at least three men just to open them. As they neared the doorway, he peered past them, into the ballroom itself. It was enormous, gilded with gold ornamentation and massive, bright chandeliers bigger than a house, the ceiling at least one hundred feet up. It was so big that Gramps could have had room to fly in there. A small portion of the room was lined with tables with flowing, stainless white tablecloths. In the back of the room, a grand, magnificent staircase, large enough for fifty people to walk across at a time, led up into the higher reaches of the palace. The walls were lined with artwork – usually romantic paintings of Mor Ardain's military victories. And in the middle of the ballroom was set out a gigantic feast, complete with massive ice statues carved in the likeness of the Emperor. With food being so scarce in Mor Ardain, Rex found himself wondering just how much they had paid for that.

"Right, well," Nia said, as they made their way into the ballroom. She glanced around, to see a gaggle of noblewoman gathered around one of the ice statuses. "I suppose if we're gonna hobnob, now's the time to do it. I'll go for the ladies there. You and Malos can go try to worm your way in with the officers...wait. Where is Malos?"

Rex laughed, suddenly, his eyes widening. "Oh, that's right. I didn't tell you. You aren't gonna believe this..."

**17.**

Malos sighed, tapping his foot as he stood in the soldier's training ground, the shadows of the night almost entirely cloaking him. He wore an Ardainian officer's dress uniform, in much the same style as Rex's, though the one the staff had supplied him with had silver trim, rather than gold, and the cap was decorated with a grinning silver skull. He wondered how the Ardainians felt about their officer's uniforms being handed out as dress uniforms for guests. He knew a many societies throughout history had looked harshly upon non-soldiers wearing their uniforms. But he supposed, if Mor Ardain was going to insist that everyone was technically part of the Ardainian military, that this was the sort of price they had to pay.

He looked around, at the buzzing electrical lights of the city casting long, harsh shadows across some parts of the streets, while leaving others as bright as day. Mor Ardain was an interesting society. Certainly, currently the most advanced civilization in the world. If he had to pin them down, he'd pin them as late industrialism, shortly before the invention of computers. Although it was hard to say. He'd seen a few automatons in his time here that seemed to suggest Mor Ardain had some idea of what computation was, but upon investigation, it usually seemed they were pieced together from some salvaged technology. Mor Ardain may have enough knowledge to clumsily manipulate computational devices, certainly, but not necessarily to replicate them, not just yet. But if he had to guess, they were likely right on the cusp of inventing them.

He shook his head. A troubling period of technological development. Old, ancient records and memories danced through his head. Late industrialism produced wealth unparalleled in previous human history, but also ushered in new forms of warfare that could see entire countries conquered in a matter of weeks, if not days. New propaganda and state media techniques could instill a fanaticism in a population just being exposed to them for the first time. Each country lived in its own self-aggrandizing mythos for much of history, but late industrialism was what let them truly test that mythos, to aggressively expand and apply it to the whole world. He wondered, what was Mor Ardain's mythos, that they'd make the world bleed and burn to test?

Although it wasn't late industrialism that would unwind a civilization. At least, the first time around, that had come a couple of centuries later…

He looked around again, glancing at a clock tower, its face lit up like a moon. It was already fifteen minutes past when Sylvie had told him to meet her here. Perhaps she wasn't coming. Rex, when Malos had told him about her invitation, had bought up the possibility that it might be a trap. But if it was, well, Malos was feeling a bit more confident ever since he had managed to repair himself during his last battle with Mythra, when Vandham had fallen. Mor Ardain might have the technology to interrupt ether flow, but Malos didn't rely on ether, his power came from within. There was only one person he had ever known who had been able to cut him off from his power. Haze. A most remarkable blade, that one was. He...never had been able to figure out how exactly she had been able to do that. He wondered if even his Father knew. Or were the blades evolving even beyond Father's plan?

Or did Father even have a plan, anymore? Malos...had admired his Father. His sheer, unparalleled genius. There had never been anyone like Him in humanity's long, tragic history, and there likely never would be, ever again. But…

Amalthus had climbed the World Tree. Malos had never met the man – only glimpsed him briefly, many centuries ago – and he could still scarcely believe it was possible. He was very curious to see the sort of man Amalthus was, to have climbed the World Tree through sheer willpower, with not even a Blade at his side to aid him. But when Amalthus had done that, Father had hidden, and allowed him to take the two remaining Aegis cores back to Alrest with him. And so had begun the long, awful war, Mythra's unhinged, howling madness…

This was why Malos wanted to return to Elysium, to confront his father. He wanted to know why. Was the world being torn apart really part of his plan? Why had he simply allowed Amalthus to take the cores? Amalthus could have never fought him – Malos knew that even he and Mythra combined could likely not harm Father, unless he willed it. And Mythra...why had he allowed her to cause so much destruction? This was Father. If He willed it, he could reach down from the World Tree, and force Mythra back into her core. And...Malos himself. Why had he been...allowed to be bought here? He...this form, again, he couldn't encompass what he had been like before he was in this form. But he had known that he was...thinking about something very important for Father. Had Father grown weary of his lack of progress…? Why had all this happened?

Malos was interrupted from his reverie by a loud honk, and he suddenly realized he was standing in the harsh glare cast by a pair of headlights. He looked behind him, to see Sylvie hopping out of a large, dusty jeep. She was wearing what looked like a ruffled pair of work clothes – a buttoned down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a pair of black, pleated pants. Her unruly green hair drifted around her in the wind, only slightly tamed by being crammed haphazardly beneath a cap similar to his. He raised his eyebrows. He had not expected her to come alone.

She placed her hands on her hips, looking him up and down, eyes flashing. "Well now! I was almost expecting you to not be here."

"You're late," Malos said simply. He realized, suddenly, he had given absolutely no thought as to how he was going to play this. He hadn't ever been on a date before. It wasn't like it was getting to his nerves, and it wasn't like he didn't know how to play at being flirtatious. But he hadn't thought at all of what he was going to do to try to get information out of her.

She walked up to him across the courtyard. "Hmm. You look pretty good in that uniform." She glanced at the skull on his cap, raising her eyebrows. "I see someone's been giving you advice on how to impress a Brionac girl."

Malos barked a laugh. "Actually, they gave me a bunch of uniforms to choose from. Hell if I know what any of the shit tacked on them means."

To his surprise, Sylvie laughed mirthfully at that. She reached into a pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, offering him one. He took it, and the light she offered, and they both stood for a moment, blowing smoke into the night, watching the clouds curl upward and disappear.

"Hey, look, can we just get something out of the way?" Sylvie asked, breaking the silence. Malos glanced down at her, curiously. She looked up at him, eyes flashing, quick and sharp. "You're the Aegis, aren't you?"

Malos was even further surprised, but he didn't show it. "How did you know?"

"Well, I didn't. I had my suspicions. But I sure know now, don't I?" Sylvie shrugged, taking another drag from her cigarette. "I mean, it makes sense. Important mission for Morag...she comes back, bringing a bunch of blades, and you...you match the descriptions in the history books...and, you know, it's not exactly like you were hiding well in Uraya. Spies don't just report to the Emperor and her, you know. Well, they're supposed to, about things like this. But, you know. Spies within spies."

"So...what is this then? Some sort of trap? Because look, I'll blow you and half this neighborhood up if I have to-"

"What? No. Sheesh." Sylvie tossed her cigarette to the ground, stomping on it. "I just wanted to get the bullshit out of the way. I mean, I could play coy all night, but that's no fun. Might as well get the truth out there in the open, right?"

Malos...actually felt sort of relieved. It did sort of annoy him to have to deal with disguises, and pretending to be something you weren't. He could understand it, sometimes. As silly as he thought Nia had been at first, he had come to understand why she might hide herself. Even if he thought she was still kind of stupid, insisting on hiding herself from Rex, who probably wouldn't even care at this point. And he had to admire the bravery of this woman, boldly coming alone to face the Aegis, brashly just admitting that she knew what he really was. "Well then," he said. "If this isn't a date, and it isn't a trap, what is it we're doing here?"

"Well, it's a good excuse to skip out on some stuffy ball, for one," Sylvie mused. "Here's my plan. We're gonna grab a bite to eat." She puffed out her chest, grinning at him. "And then _I'm_ gonna tell _you _why you should fight for Mor Ardain."

**18.**

The ball was an event for the old nobility and Senators of Mor Ardain. And while that was all well and good, there was a whole class of Mor Ardain's powerful who were not necessarily invited to the ball itself. Her industrialists, rich and powerful businessmen who summoned Mor Ardain's factories into existence, tinkerers and investors, dismissive of the rules and etiquette of nobility. Although some of them were noblemen and Senators themselves – the lines drawn were not absolute.

It could not be said Mor Ardain was dismissive of them. While the nobles had their little ball, the industrialists gathered in a room adjacent to it. Not quite so large and grand as the ballroom, a bit more intimate and comfortable, it was a den with a crackling fireplace carved into black rock in one of the walls, lined with a few book cases – and instead of the artwork that the ballroom displayed, this room was a museum to the important inventions that had made Mor Ardain rich and powerful. Here was a diesel engine, resting awkwardly upon a pillar, there, taking up almost an entire wall by itself, an automatic loom, and there, behind a glass case, a disassembled radio, a dozen little displays of inventions, gears and pistons, tangled wiring…

"All very silly," Tora mused to himself, sipping from a martini glass that he had discretely filled with water. He wanted to seem sophisticated, but he really didn't like the taste of Ardainian vodka. "Inventions meant to be used, not be an art piece."

The meeting of industrialists was going fairly smoothly. Tora had immediately felt at home among them. And they had even had the politeness to bring along a few nopon-sized tables and chairs for his convenience. In fact, he had been surprised to find that a number of Mor Ardain's rich and powerful elite actually _were _nopon. Mor Ardain had some strict requirements on leadership – to build factories there, you had to renounce your position in any of the nopon Trade Guilds – but apparently it was appealing enough to some.

And unlike the stuffy ball a room over, the industrialists were much more loud and boisterous, roaring with laughter, showing off little inventions they had been tinkering with, bragging about business successes, even mocking the people next door. "Why go to the ball when I already own half the Senators there," one Ardainian, with a thick beard and dark bags beneath his eyes, chuckled as he showed off the design for a new pistol, disassembling it with quick hands, hiding pieces that he said were "trade secrets" with a wink, to a wave of appreciative titters and laughter.

"Hey, some of us _are _Senators, you know!"

"I see you, Donovan! Everyone knows why _you're _a Senator. Easy to get your factories subsidized when you can just propose it yourself."

"Hey. My factories are vital to the war effort."

"I literally manufacture hand grenades, you phony! You manufacture uniforms! What's more vital?!"

Tora ignored the bickering, smiling fondly at the circle of industrialists who were staring at Poppi with awe. Poppi was right, though. They definitely knew what an artificial blade was. They were less amazed that she existed at all, and more curious about her design specifications. Although they did seem very, very willing to throw money at him.

"Tora, my boy," slurred the latest to make him an offer, a somewhat drunk Ardainian woman, hair graying but eyes still sharp and bright, "Tell you what. You help me set up a factory where we can crank out five hundred of these Poppi units a year – just five hundred a year! And I can guarantee you, we'll both be so rich we'll be able to buy everyone in this room."

"I keep saying, Poppi's specifications not for sale," Tora said teasingly, taking a sip from his pretend-martini. "You impressed with Poppi now, Tora promises you he has not yet begun to scratch the surface. Has two-part upgrade plan. Later design iterations of Poppi will blow you away, Tora promise. Tora could use...a bit of research seed money. A mere one million go long way. Tora personally field test."

"Um, Masterpon?" Poppi called.

Tora glanced over. One of the industrialists had whipped out a screwdriver and opened Poppi's back panel, and was currently busy poking and prodding around the delicate gears and wiring back there. "Oh, now isn't that a funny little gear drive," he muttered. "And this wiring, so fine. Let's just take a little-"

"Hey!" Tora yelled, smacking his hand away with a wrench. "Excuse me! Is trade secrets! Also, violation of Poppi's privacy."

"Poppi not really care!" The robot girl shrugged. "Poppi a robot. People go digging through Poppi's guts all the time."

"Poppi, you make it sound weird," Tora muttered.

The industrialist cursed, shaking his hand, glaring at Tora. "Look, you're one of Bana's boys, right? You know we've been trying to get a look at these artificial blades of yours for years now. You can't just bring one out in front of our faces and then expect us not to try to take a peek under the hood. Be reasonable."

"What…?" Tora shook his head. "Bana…? Tora not have anything to do with him. Poppi his own personal invention…." His ears perked up suddenly. "You seen artificial blades before….?"

"Wait," said the industrialist, suddenly. "You mean you're not one of Bana's…?" He whistled, appreciatively. "Boy, you got guts, kid. He's pretty ruthless about keeping his monopoly on artificial blade manufacture and research." He glanced around nervously, backing up. "In fact, I think I'll just be keeping a safe buffer zone of about thirty feet between us. Nothing personal, of course."

"Tora not understand," Tora began, but he was suddenly interrupted by the entrance to the den swinging open dramatically.

"Well, well! If it isn't little Tora. Been many year since I see you. What's this MuiMui hears about you parading around an artificial blade when this town isn't yours at all?"

Tora completely ignored the small green nopon standing in the doorway, instead looking past him to the sad-eyed mechanical girl in a black maid's dress standing at his side. "...Lila…?" he said, wonderingly.

**19.**

Nia sighed, rubbing her temples.

Dealing with these noblewomen really was too much. Their inane jokes, the shrill tittering. Nia had quickly remembered why she hated this sort of event so much. Nothing that they talked about actually mattered. It was all silly, petty bullshit. Oh, and forcing herself to laugh along at their dumb jokes, their shallow pseudo-intellectual observations that they thought were deep, oh, it was driving her out of her mind.

She looked around the room, towards Rex. He had managed to get himself tangled up in a gaggle of very high-ranking officers. They….did not look like pleasant men. Hard, with faces like skulls, eyes sunk deep into black bags. Eyes that had seen so much death that it seemed normal to them, now. Rex was surrounded by a small circle of them, and...he didn't seem like he was having a good time. Even from across the room, Nia could see that he was paler than usual, and staring at the men with alternating despair and horror. It was sort of cute how he couldn't hide his emotions for the life of him.

With dread, she turned her attention back to the noblewomen and their idiotic conversations. To be honest, she wasn't sure where to begin, here. She couldn't even tell which of these women were Brionac or not. And the last thing they seemed intent on discussing was politics. Which was...kind of worrying. The only time they ever talked about the invasion, they spoke about it as an inevitability, like one might talk about the storm season. Maybe things were worse than Morag suspected. Even if she did find out how the Brionac Senators planned on going around the Emperor to initiate the invasion, would there be anything they could do to stop it…?

"You know, my dear," said an older noblewoman, and Nia suddenly became aware that she was the one being addressed. "I must say, you are so civil and soft-spoken for a Gormotti."

Nia felt her anger flash through her. Before she could stop herself, she snapped, "Yeah, well, you're very pretty, for an old hag." _Shit, _she thought, as the noblewomen surrounding her gasped in surprise.

But the younger noblewomen eventually broke out into titters, while the older one merely gasped and stormed off in a huff. "Now that's what I like to see," laughed a young noblewoman, red-headed and with a decidedly cruel smile, her dress woven to look like the rough waves of an ocean. "What's the point in having a Gormotti if they're not gonna let loose with those famously sharp tongues of theirs?"

Nia felt herself gritting her teeth. Is that what they wanted? Oh, she could give it to them. She could give it to them in spades. She drew in a breath to unleash her ire upon them, but glanced upward in surprise as she was interrupted by a voice booming out across the ballroom.

"Esteemed guests of the Imperial House," drawled a particularly unenthusiastic-sounding member of the staff, standing by the grand staircase, speaking into a microphone. "May I introduce his Imperial Highness, Niall Ladair, and of course...Princess Morag Ladair, right hand of the throne."

Walking down the stairs, wearing a matching pair of grim smiles, were Morag and Niall. Niall was dressed in a grand imperial regalia, an officer's suit, but colored in white and gold as opposed to black. Morag was wearing her field armor, as she always was. Niall was flanked by Brighid and Aegaeon as he descended the staircase, his sister hovering nearby. The poor boy looked exhausted. If there was any animus towards him for opposing the war agenda, the noblewomen didn't show it. They shouted enthusiastically, gossiping among themselves.

"Oh, isn't Niall getting tall! He's so cute," whispered one of them.

"I can't wait until he turns eighteen. Rawr."

"Hoooookay, I think that's enough for me," Nia muttered to herself, pushing her way out of the gaggle of noblewomen. She spotted Rex sitting at one of the tables, a drink in front of him, and made her way over to him, pulling out a chair across from him.

He looked...disturbed. He was stirring his drink idly, absent-mindedly, staring off into space, not even noticing that she was there. "Hey, Rex, snap out of it," she said, nudging him. "How'd it go? You get any info?"

He jumped slightly when she nudged him, his eyes suddenly focusing on her. "Oh...Nia," he muttered. "I...Architect, those men..." He held his head in his hands. "I...the way they talked about things, like a million deaths were just some part of some grand game...Architect, I think they really do want to conquer the whole world. I think they really think they can do it. Spent the whole damn time talking strategy about how they _would _do it. Maybe...maybe they can." Nia noticed him shaking slightly as he took a drink. "I wanted...to just slug them across the face for being such lunatics. But I couldn't. Ah, I'm such an idiot. I didn't even manage to get them talking about anything Morag asked about..."

"I mean, don't worry about it, yeah?" Nia replied. "I didn't exactly get anything useful out of those ladies either."

Rex looked around, finally noticing Niall descending the staircase. "Hey, look at that, Morag didn't have to dress up for this at all. No fair."

"First rule of royalty, Rex. You make your own rules." Nia kicked back, stealing his drink while he wasn't looking. "I-"

Nia was interrupted for a second time as the announcements continued. "And, oh, in what a rare occurrence nowadays, we have visiting royalty," drawled the announcer. "May I introduce-"

"YOU MAY NOT!" Came a booming voice from the staircase. Nia and Rex looked up in shock.

At the top of the staircase stood a tall, athletic looking man, broad-shouldered and handsome, an eyepatch strapped around one of his eyes, both his eyes and hair gray as stormclouds. He wore a long, tattered overcoat, strategically left open to display a well-muscled chest and carved abs, metallic armor strapped around his shoulders. He was dressed less like royalty or nobility and more like a particularly flamboyant mercenary, wearing large, armored and fingerless leather gauntlets. At his side stood what could only be a blade, a slim woman, tiny next to the tall man, with short green hair, sharp, elfen ears, and eyes hidden behind large spectacles, her outfit a purple and black top, a small ruffled sash of purple hanging down behind form-fitting shorts, her outfit adorned, with all things, lightbulbs. A tail extended behind her, but it seemed to be made of electrical wiring, with yet another large lightbulb crowning it.

"I make...my OWN introductions," the man announced dramatically. "Pandy, do the thing."`

"Gotcha, my Prince," his blade replied. She snapped her fingers, and suddenly the lightbulbs on her outfit began strobing different colors in rapid succession. She posed dramatically behind him as the man stepped down the staircase, jabbing a thumb at himself. "I AM-" he began.

"For the love of the Architect," Morag snapped, having reached the bottom of the staircase. She grabbed the microphone from the announcer. "May I introduce Ozychlyrus Brounev Tantal, also known as Zeke von Genbu, and his blade Pandoria. Any other nicknames this fool gives you are complete nonsense. Diplomatic envoy from Indol, of all places."

Zeke deflated on the staircase, glaring sorely down at her. "You know, it's not polite to interrupt a man's introduction, Morag. And no one's called me Ozychlyrus in years."

"I'm not in the mood for your games, Zeke," Morag snapped, still into the microphone, and then shoved it back at the announcer.

Zeke threw his hands up, as Pandoria demurely stopped her strobe lights. "Well. That's Morag 'Moodkiller' Ladair for you."

Gradually, the awkward silence the tense introduction had caused dissipated, as the crowds of nobles went back to tittering at the scandal or to their former conversations. Nia turned back to Rex. "Man, what a weirdo," she muttered. "Anyway...I think I've talked to enough nobles for now. I could use a bit of a break. How about you show me those new dance moves-"

"Uh oh, we got trouble incoming," Rex said suddenly, pointing. Nia looked, to see Zeke and his blade making a beeline straight for them, pushing their way past the crowds.

"Well well," said Zeke, finally making his way to their table, attempting to sound inconspicuous and sounding as conspicuous as he possibly could, "This table looks fine. Do you two have room for more?"

Nia looked around. They were surrounded by completely empty tables. "No we don't," she snapped.

"Good to hear!" Zeke replied, ignoring her. "Let's just grab some extra chairs."

Nia sighed, loudly, obviously, as Zeke and his blade pulled up some chairs to sit across from them. He was oblivious to her annoyance, though. "So," he said, addressing Rex, "I know Morag interrupted my proper introduction, so let me introduce myself. Pandy, do the thing. I AM-"

"We know who you are," Nia snapped irritably. "You're Zeke. We got it."

Zeke glared at her. "A man needs his introduction."

"What you need is to put a shirt on."

"Uh, excuse me," Pandoria piped up, crossing her arms. "Have you seen those abs? Those are art. You're asking my Prince to censor _art, _dude."

Nia put her fingers to her temples. "Oh….oh….it's….so stupid…."

While Nia was choked silent by her own irritation, Zeke leaned forward across the table, grinning at Rex. "So, chum. I'm actually on a mission here in Mor Ardain, and I was wondering if you might be able to help me out."

"Uh….okay…." Rex said, skeptically, awkwardly.

"I'm looking…." Zeke paused, for dramatic effect, before pinning Rex with an intense stare. "For the _Aegis. _Wouldn't happen to know anything about that now, would you?"

"Ahhhh, nope, don't know anything about that at all!" Rex cried, nervously, as Nia's ears perked up in alarm. "Sorry buddy, can't help you-"

"Don't toy with me, pipsqueak!" Zeke cried, leaping dramatically to his feet, slamming one of his boots down on the table. "I know you're the driver of the Aegis! Pandy and I tracked you down in Uraya, but you flew away on that Titan of yours!" He jabbed a finger in Rex's face. "Just admit it, hand over the Aegis, and this can all be over as quickly as possible!"

Nia was about to say something, but as she watched, a small turtle crawled its way out of one of the man's sleeves and plopped down onto the table. "Wh-what the bloody hell is even going on," she muttered, completely baffled.

"I, uh, I-" Rex stammered, intensely aware of the attention Zeke's outburst had garnered, feeling the eyes of dozens of nobles turning towards him. "Uhhhhh..."

Suddenly, Zeke was yanked back by his shoulder, nearly toppling over the side of the table. It was Morag, who had appeared so quickly and silently that Nia and Rex hadn't even noticed her approaching. "Oh, Zeke," she said, uncharacteristically loudly, "What a _very funny joke_ you just made. Definitely a _very funny joke, with no basis in reality. _You and your _wacky sense of humor, it is a joke._"

The nobles turned their attention away from them. Rex heard a few of them muttering "Oh, it's Zeke, of course."

"Morag, what gives? This isn't a joke," Zeke muttered.

"Oh Zeke," Morag said, much quieter, "I could just, oh, I dunno, throw you out a damn window. How is it that _literally every time _you show up you find the most direct route to being a pain in my ass? It's a gift, really. I have to commend you."

Zeke yanked his shoulder out of his hand, folding his arms. Morag sighed in annoyance as Pandoria leapt to her feet to mimic him, crossing her arms beside him. "Look here, Morag," Zeke said, blissfully quiet for once, "I know this kid is the driver of the Aegis. I know _you _know that. I'm not an idiot."

"Debatable," muttered Morag. "But look. Just be _quiet_, and we can-"

And suddenly, she was interrupted as an explosion rocked through the ballroom.

**20.**

Malos had been expecting that Sylvie, being a Senator, would take him to one of the fancier restaurants Mor Ardain had to offer. Instead, she drove him to a sad, greasy hole in the wall, where they ordered a pair of pathetic, depressing-looking burgers. Malos garnered more than a few looks, being conspicuously overdressed. They didn't even bother to stay in the restaurant, Sylvie immediately grabbing his hand and leading him back to her jeep, insisting on eating in the car.

"There a reason you didn't want to stay there…?"

Sylvie shrugged, taking a gigantic bite of her burger as she had one hand on the wheel. "I dunno. I just sort of...like eating this kind of food on the go. One day, someone's going to invent a place where they hand you your food right in your car and make a fortune, mark my words."

"You have no idea how right you are," Malos muttered. He eyed the burger and fries skeptically, and then took a tentative bite. "Wow, this is...absolutely rancid," he said, coughing. "Phaugh! Terrible. If you're trying to convince me to fight for Mor Ardain, this burger single-handedly just ruined your chances."

Sylvie laughed, quietly. "Yeah. It is pretty terrible. But...being cooped up all day in that Palace, you can sometimes forget what the average person has to live with. We get the good stuff, while everyone else lives with rancid meat. It's good to remind yourself of that, every now and then." She took another big bite of the burger, reluctantly swallowing. "Besides, uh, you get used to the taste."

There was silence between them for a while, as Sylvie navigated her way through Mor Ardain's streets, eventually coming to one of the large gates leading out into the desert. With a wave of her pass at the guards, the gates opened, and she shifted gears as she began driving over rough sands and hard, scrabbled rock, headlights stabbing out into the darkness.

Malos was about to ask where she was taking him, when she glanced over at him. "So. Why did you agree to come out to this date?"

Malos shrugged. "Well. As long as you're being honest. I was trying to find out information on how Brionac was planning to go around the Emperor in initiating the invasion."

"Hah! Figures." Sylvie turned dramatically, going off the beaten path of vehicle tracks in the sand, now driving haphazardly over sand dunes. "Well, honestly, everyone is pretty much acting like the invasion's going to inevitably happen. I figured I was just eventually going to wear down Niall enough that he'd agree to it. Not like it's going to be stopped."

"Ooh, big lady, driving a little kid to exhaustion," Malos mocked.

Sylvie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Hey. That little kid is the Emperor of Mor Ardain. Not my fault he's the one that needs to be convinced. He should just give up, anyway. It's what the Senate wants. Emperor's supposed to work _with _the Senate, not completely overrule its will."

Malos was quiet, and Sylvie eventually came up to a large cliff, overlooking a humongous, sheer drop into a river of lava, hundreds of feet down, a humongous gash carved into the back of Mor Ardain's Titan, stretching for miles in either direction. Malos perked up as he noticed a gigantic cobra, easily forty feet along, slither dangerously just outside of the range of her headlights. "Hey, is it safe to be out here…?" he asked.

"Nope, not at all," Sylvie smiled. "Bunch of aggressive monsters."

"Whoa!" Malos shouted, as the gigantic snake darted in from the darkness, hissing mere feet away from his window, baring fangs as long as his arm, staring at him with flat, hungry eyes. He could see silvery scars lining its brown scales, each one sharp as a knife.

"Ooooh, guess you better protect me, big strong Aegis man," Sylvie cooed, teasing. "Come on, let's see some of that Aegis action. Impress me, big guy."

"For the love of..." Malos muttered. He opened the door and shot out into the darkness, tackling the snake, summoning his blade to his hand and sinking it into its hide. He groaned in frustration when he realized, glancing around, that there was more than one of them slithering silently through the sands around him.

Sylvie, in the meantime, had climbed up on the roof of her jeep, pistol in one hand, box of hand grenades in the other. "Hell yeah!" she cried, as Malos gutted one of the snakes and tossed it, hurtling and screaming, into the river of lava far below. "WOOOOO!" She fired her pistol into the night, yanking the pin out of a hand grenade with her teeth, lobbing it out into the night, the explosions echoing across the sands, attracting the attention of yet more snakes and awful beasts of Mor Ardain's deserts.

For the next hour, the dunes echoed with explosions and the sounds of battle. Malos zipped from beast to beast, slashing, spheres of dark flame flowing forth from his fingertips, devouring, slaughtering. Black blood and vile ichor arced through the air, staining the sands, soaking his uniform. With delighted contempt, he held open a snake's jaw, snapping one of its own fangs off to drive it through its own eye. "Are you insane?!" he shouted, laughing, as Sylvie reloaded her pistol, yelling into the night, unloading it into the skull of a snake that had curled around behind him.

Finally, all the beasts of the desert fled, either knowing they didn't have a chance, or lay dead at Malos' hand. He glanced around grimly. The smoking, skeletal remains of snakes and various other beasts lay sprawled around him. He couldn't even count how many he had killed, having thrown so many into the river of lava. He wiped thick, vile blood from his face, flicking it from his sword, and glared up at Sylvie, who was laying on the top of her jeep, face in her hands, kicking her feet idly in the air. "Well, count me impressed," she said slyly.

"So," Malos said, stepping over the twitching corpse of a gargantuan snake as he made his way back to the car. "To try and convince me to fight for Mor Ardain, you've given me a shitty burger, and shown me her Senators are lunatics. This is the worst marketing campaign of all time."

Sylvie stared quietly at him for a long moment. Then she nodded her head towards the massive cliff. "You recognize that?"

"No."

"During the Aegis War. During the battle that sank Torna. Oh, yeah, buddy, you better believe Mor Ardain keeps good records of stuff like that. Mor Ardain's Titan was close by, to lend assistance, and got caught in the crossfire between you and Mythra. Got this massive wound, that nearly killed it." She looked at him, face mysterious in the darkness. "Pretty sure it was one of yours, wasn't it?"

Malos was quiet for a long time. That battle...all he remembered of it was how much he had been focusing on Mythra, oblivious to everything else around him. "It's possible," he conceded, quietly. "So what's your point? I owe you?"

"No, not at all." Sylvie shook her head. "I don't blame you for it at all. Mythra had to be stopped, no matter the cost. If one or two Titans died in the process, it was all worth it, because otherwise the world was going to end." She hopped down from the top of her jeep, opening up the back, tossing him a towel to wipe the gore off him. "That's my point. That's...why I always admired you, you know. When I read through the history books. You did what needed to be done. Even if people hated you for it." She shook her head. "People...don't understand the big picture. It's not like you enjoyed wreaking havoc on Torna and Mor Ardain. But _it had to be done._"

Malos paused as he wiped blood from his face, staring at her. That was...precisely how he felt. But it disturbed him to hear that logic coming from her. "Where are you going with this?" he asked, quietly.

Sylvie sighed, leaning back against the side of her jeep, looking up at the stars. "The world...it's running out of Titans. Most countries are just now becoming aware of it. Mor Ardain noticed centuries ago. We're the only ones that keep meticulous documentation on that sort of thing. Which new Titans appear, at what rate they are appearing. We noticed a downturn centuries ago. It took another century of data for us to realize that it wasn't just due to random chance – that the birth rate for new Titans really was plummeting. We...sent out expeditions all over the world. Tried to find out if the new Titans were just hiding somewhere undiscovered. We tried warning other countries. They didn't believe us, or just ignored us." She shook her head. "It's only now, now that it's obvious, and way too late to do anything about it, that they care."

"Why didn't you try doing something about it?"

"We don't know what's causing it! Still don't. Still the biggest mystery of our times." She nailed him with a hard stare. "Don't suppose _you _know, do you?"

"Uh. No, actually," Malos mused. "Father probably does. But He's been….silent."

Sylvie waved her hands dismissively. "Well. The reality is, here we are. Stuck on a world with dwindling resources. The reality is, we're going to have to find ways to squeeze blood from a stone. All of us. The entire world." And here, she waved her hands at the fantastic, blinking lights of Alba Cavanich, far off in the distance, a glow in the desert that was visible for miles. "Well. Who do you suppose is really, really good at making something from nothing? At squeezing wealth from precious little? Mor Ardain."

And suddenly, she rushed forward, grabbing Malos' hands, staring up at him intently. "Don't you see? That's why I love my country so. Even in the face of bleak despair, they created something beautiful. And we can show the rest of the world the way. Things aren't so bad, yet. We can squeeze centuries, millenia of wealth out of the remaining Titans, properly managed. It can buy us time to find a real solution. To find out what's happening to the missing Titans, or learn to create new ones ourselves. We're the best hope this world's got."

Malos stared at her, silently. So this was Mor Ardain's mythos. "And that makes it worth conquering the world," he replied, quietly.

"It didn't have to be like this. When I was younger, idealistic, I tried negotiating with Queen Raqura to hand over administrative control of Uraya voluntarily." Sylvie shrugged, ruefully. "You can probably guess how that went. But other countries, what do they do? They hope for salvation from the Architect. They pin their hopes on wild dreams of Elysium." She gave him a meaningful stare. 

"I mean, remember who you're talking to," Malos laughed. "I know for a fact that the Architect and Elysium both exist."

"Okay, but he hasn't come down and saved us, now has he? So we can't rely on him, can we? You say he's been silent. Maybe it's a test, to see if we can save ourselves. No gods, no Elysium. We save ourselves, by our own hands. So yes – if what it takes is a war, then that's what it takes. Even if people hate us for it..._we do what needs to be done." _She smiled at him, triumphantly. "That's why you should fight for us, Malos." She laid a hand on his face, suddenly tender, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "I know as an Aegis, you're different. Amalthus awoke Mythra, but...she went off on her own, later on. Addam awoke you, but he's long dead, and here you are with a new driver. You can choose your driver, can't you? Let me be yours, and fight with me for Mor Ardain. I understand you. You did what needed to be done, and...I always thought you were so noble for that. With you, we can end the whole war so much more quickly. We can stop Mythra again, together, with the entire Ardainian military at your back. We can even go to Elysium, figure out a way to get there. And you won't have to worry about dragging a child into your war." She grinned, nodding back at the corpses surrounding them. "I'm no stranger to combat, and I know the costs. It makes so much sense."

Malos was quiet for a very, very long time, his face cloaked in shadows. It all...sounded more appealing to him than he liked to admit. It shook him, down to his very core, to hear his own logic, his own reasoning, being used to justify the conquest of the world. Had he been right? Had he made the right choices? If he had, would it make sense, then, to go with Sylvie…? It seemed ridiculous, on the face of it, but so much of what she had said sounded tempting...

Or...had he been wrong? Had be been the monster people seemed to think he was?

Before he could answer, they were both distracted by a loud, echoing explosion, shattering the silence of the dunes. They whipped their heads back towards Alba Cavanich. "What was that…?" Malos snapped.

Sylvie shielded her eyes. "Sounded like an explosion...where'd it come from…?"

And then they gasped in shock as another explosion echoes out across the silent desert night, and a gout of flame burst from the windows of the largest building in Alba Cavanich. It had come from the Palace.

**21.**

"Lila…?" Tora muttered, approaching the mechanical girl with some awe. "Tora...not understand! How can Lila..."

"Hey. HEY!" MuiMui snapped, stepping forward to jab Tora in the chest. "Tora, pay attention! MuiMui talking to you!"

"Masterpon, who Lila?" Poppi asked suspiciously, staring at the other artificial blade with some trepidation.

"Lila….Poppi's original design," Tora said wondrously. "But her design stolen, her prototype stolen, night lab attacked by mysterious green nopon. How she can be here…? Simply not possible."

Poppi looked at her masterpon. Then she looked at MuiMui, who was a green nopon. "Masterpon…really? Come...come on."

"Tora," MuiMui said, almost pleadingly, yanking at his arm. "MuiMui is talking to you. You listen."

Finally, Tora glanced at him, furrowing his brow in consternation. "Who the hell is MuiMui…?" he muttered.

"THAT'S IT!" MuiMui cried. "Tora step foot in wrong town! You and artificial blade are coming with MuiMui! I in charge of all artificial blade research now! Lila, initiate attack pattern delta! Do not harm Tora, I need his big stupid brain!" MuiMui reached into the pockets of his lab coat, drawing out a pair of shiny, black submachine guns. "Party is OVER!"

"Oh cool, he's using my new model!" cried one of the industrialists, before MuiMui began firing wildly into the air, and the industrialists screamed and began fleeing from the room.

"Roger, masterpon," Lila said, mournfully. She held up her fists, which retreated into her sleeves with a mechanical whirr, transforming into a twin pair of cannons.

"Oh, right, delta is the bomb one. Crap," muttered MuiMui.

A massive explosion roared through the palace, sending smoking debris and shattered glass flying into the ballroom. Tora groggily plucked himself up from the burning wreckage, smoke rising from his fur, glancing around himself. All around, there were nobles in fancy dresses running screaming from the spectacle. Suddenly, Poppi filled his vision, helping him to his feet. He looked around in panic as gangs of Tirkin began hopping through the windows, the small, ugly bird-creatures looking odd carrying rifles and pistols awkwardly in their claws.

"No let Tora get away!" he heard MuiMui cry from behind him. He glanced around. There, from the smoke of the destroyed den, striding forward purposefully, was Lila, MuiMui riding on her shoulders. "Estimate he can increase productivity at least eighty percent! Millions in profits! Millions!"

"If weird green obvious murderer of Tora's Dadapon and Grampypon wants Tora," Poppi said, boldly stepping in front of him, "He will have to go through Poppi, first!"

"Okay," said MuiMui. And he laughed wildly as Lila strode forward, her arms transforming into large, hydraulic presses, shooting his guns haphazardly into the air.

Halfway across the ballroom, meanwhile, Zeke, Nia, Rex and Morag were struggling against the suddenly fleeing crowds of nobility, trying to push their way past the flood of humanity running in the other direction.

"Niall?!" Morag cried, panicking. "Niall! Where is he? Is he okay?" 

Zeke, taller than the rest of them, stood on his tiptoes, peering over the crowd. "It's okay. I can see him. He's by the staircase. Aegaeon and Brighid are both with him. He looks alright."

"I...okay. Thanks," muttered Morag. "What's going on though? Who's attacking…?"

"Can't...c'mere, Pandy," Zeke said, and Pandy gave a delighted whoop as he swept her up and placed her on his shoulders.

His blade peered around, over the confused, chaotic crowds. "I...huh. A lot of Tirkin. None of them seem to be going for the Emperor, though. There's...uh. Two nopons fighting with robot girls, if you can believe that. Man, this is way more interesting than most Ardainian parties."

"Tora!" Rex cried.

"Wait...two of them?" Nia muttered, at the same time.

"Alright, here's how this is going to go," Morag snapped. She turned to Nia and Rex. "Neither of you have your blades with you. You've got no defenses against gunfire. You're going to help these crowds evacuate. Zeke and I will deal with the Tirkin. And…whatever _unfriendly _nopon with robot girls might be over there."

Nia and Rex both looked as if they might protest, but another explosion rocked through the ballroom, and the crowds around them grew shrill with panic. Together, they nodded, and then ran off, pulling shrieking, stunned nobles with them towards the ballroom doors as they went.

Morag and Zeke finally pushed their way through the crowds, emerging on the other side. Brighid was at Morag's side in an instant. "Aegaeon took Niall up to the throne room," she murmured to Morag. "Although I don't think this is an assassination attempt. I...my goodness, what is going on here?"

In the center of the ballroom, a crowd of Tirkin were converging toward Poppi and Tora, who were desperately holding them back while MuiMui and Lila weaved in and out, attempting to grab them.

"Right. Which one's the friendly nopon," Zeke cried, summoning a massive, glowing sword to his hand from Pandoria.

"Green one's the bad guy," Morag muttered, as Brighid's blades appeared in her hands as well.

"All I need to know."

With a crack of thunder and a roar of blue flame, Morag and Zeke dove into the crowd of Tirkin, sending dozens of them flying, squawking in pain and fear, in explosions of singed feathers.

"Morag!" Tora cried in delight, seeing her fight beside him. Then he glanced up at Zeke, who was taking out multiple Tirkin at a time with massive swings of his humongous blade. He was, Tora noticed, always swinging with the flat of the blade, slamming the Tirkin pretty hard, knocking them senseless, but never killing them. "And. Uh..."

"Oh! Will I get a chance to do my introduction?!" Zeke cried, swinging his sword. "How are you, littlepon. My name is Zeke von Genbu!" He swung his sword again, and lightning laced through the crowd.

"Oh, I hate this," Morag muttered, sending a wave of blue flame through the Tirkin surrounding them.

"I think it's kind of cute," Brighid smiled as she concentrated at her side. "Look how Pandy's all synced up with him. Come on, that's kind of cute. You have to admit."

"BRINGER, OF, CHAOS!" Zeke roared, every word punctuated with a swing of his blade that sent Tirkin flying through the air. "Mostly known as Zeke! And also, the Zekeanator!"

"Has anyone _ever _called you that?" Morag snapped, dancing around him, Brighid's ether shield deflecting bullet fire.

Zeke ignored her, scooping up his blade by the waist, flinging her into the air. Pandoria did a graceful flip, landing in the midst of a crowd of Tirkin. "This is my blade, PANDORIA! Pandy, do the thing," he cried, and Pandy erupted with lightning, stunning and electrifying dozens of Tirkin.

"And my sword, the Purple Lightning Dreamsmasher!" Zeke roared, holding his massive blade up in the air. He slammed it to the ground, and sparks rose up from the floor, electrifying yet more Tirkin.

MuiMui, still perched on Lila's shoulder, looked around in alarm as his gang of Tirkin dropped like flies around him. "Meh!" he snapped, smacking Lila on the head. "Lila, forget about capturing other artificial blade, too. Tora is important target. Grab him and run!"

"Roger, masterpon," Lila said, sullenly, and she dashed between Zeke and Morag fighting the Tirkin. Poppi dashed in front of her, getting between her and Tora, glaring at her defiantly, but one punch from the hydraulic presses on Lila's arms sent her flying, skidding across the floor. And then Lila reached out and grabbed Tora by his tuxedo, locking him into an iron grip.

"We have him! Go, go, go!" cried Mui Mui, and with a small roar, jet boosters erupted from Lila's feet, and she rose into the air.

"Masterpon!" Poppi cried frantically.

"Poppi!" Tora squirmed against Lila's grip, but it was no use. She rose further and further into the air with him, staring upwards.

"No!" Poppi cried, igniting her booster rockets on her own feet, desperately flying after Lila. Lila glanced down at her, sadly, and rockets erupted from her back, dozens of them, trailing smoke as they soared after Poppi. Poppi ducked, and weaved, and maneuvered through the fire, but was not quick enough. A rocket caught one of her boots, damaging it, causing the jet booster to slowly sputter out, and with a shriek Poppi crashed to the floor, hard enough to crack it.

She didn't feel it at all, though. Didn't even notice. Her eyes were locked on to Tora, still struggling against Lila's grip. "Masterpon, no," she whispered, miserably. "NO!" She cried, as Lila gave her one last, lingering glance, and then took off, crashing through a window, disappearing rapidly into the inky blackness of the night. "Masterpon! TORA!" she cried, struggling to her feet, kicking her boots, trying in vain to get her jet boosters to work again.

The last of the Tirkins was lying unconscious, or had fled. The ballroom was a smoking mess of overturned tables and debris. Morag smartly snapped her blades to her side, as Zeke and Pandoria high-fived each other. Across the ballroom, she noticed Poppi kneeling on the ground, her face in her hands. She approached her, tentatively, and as she drew near she could see the artificial blade's shoulders hitching with wracking sobs. "Poppi…?" she asked, carefully.

Poppi looked up at her, miserably, the normally cheerful orange glow of her eyes dimmed. "Poppi failed her mission," she sniffled. "Masterpon is gone."

**Note**

Hey, sorry for the late update, this chapter was actually kind of difficult to write, it took me much longer than it usually takes to write something of this length

Anyway I'm very tired so I don't have much to say, as always please comment if you can


	16. Chapter 16

**22.**

Tora groaned as he awoke, sputtering a bit as he realized he was lying face-down on a cold stone floor, scrambling a bit as he struggled to remember where he was. He pushed himself up on his tiny arms, his eyes slowly focusing to the dim light of the environment around him. The smell of acrid smoke pervaded the air, and there was the constant sound of metal hammering on metal in the distance. He was in a small, sparse room, with a stone floor, and four rusty metal walls, condensation running down them, heat emanating from them.

Suddenly, his memories came back to him in a flood. The fight with MuiMui, Lila, the frantic flight over the desert during which he had passed out...and Poppi's large, sad, frightened eyes as she had called out to him in despair as he was pulled away from her.

"Poppi!" Tora muttered under his breath. His poor blade had been shot with a rocket. She would certainly need repairs. And a tune up, and an oil change, and-

Suddenly, the door to his cell crashed open. Behind it lay MuiMui, strolling into the room with a smirk on his face, Lila at his side, looking sad, her eyes downcast.

"MuiMui!" Tora growled, running towards him. He was within a few feet of the smirking nopon when he was jerked back suddenly, slamming into the stone floor. He gasped, looking back, only now noticing the chain that tethered him to one of the walls.

"Oh, does Tora remember MuiMui now?" the green nopon asked, preening himself, brushing his fur. "How generous of Tora to finally recognize me."

"Yes, Tora remember you," Tora snapped. "MuiMui grampypon SooSoo's lab assistant. So stupid and untalented he contribute nothing to artificial blade project, nothing! Always had to have hand held for simplest things!"

MuiMui bristled at Tora's words. But soon, he was smiling smugly once more. "If MuiMui so stupid, and Tora's family so smart, why he able to get the drop on you all, and steal your prototype right from under your eyes? MuiMui is the one with Lila now!" He beamed, satisfied with himself. "Who the stupid one now?"

"You!" Tora snapped irritably. "Any idiot can operate a gun, _stupid! _You...you killed Tora's grampypon and dadapon!" He leapt to his feet, straining against his chains. "You steal Lila! Her being there at your side is sick joke!"

"MuiMui not kill your dadapon, dum-dum," MuiMui snapped. He gestured to the door behind him. Tora peered through it. He could see the dim orange glow of forge-work, and the dancing shadows of gigantic, intricate machines, assembling….he couldn't see what. "Who you think help build all this? Tora behave well, maybe he even get to see his dadapon. Someday."

"What….?" Tora muttered, taken aback. "Tora's dadpon...alive….?"

Before he had time to suggest this, an angry roar echoed throughout the metal halls of the factory.

"MUIMUI!"

MuiMui began quaking. "Oh. Oh no." Shivering, he turned around to face the door. A series of heavy, thudding footsteps grew louder and louder. And suddenly, the shadow of a massive nopon filled the door, much larger than either Tora or MuiMui, a nopon decorated with gold and jewels, two sharp black eyes peering out from his face, a tuft of purple hair and a curled purple mustache decorating his face…

"Bana," MuiMui said, his voice trembling. "H-how are you? I capture Tora for you..."

Bana glared at the smaller nopon. "You capture him, and alert the entire palace security! Have authorities breathing down my neck because of this! Idiot, stupid MuiMui! And you fail completely to capture new artificial blade! You know how much I have to pay in bribes because of this incident? _Tell Bana why he should not toss you in the incinerator!"_

Tora looked up in awe at the large nopon as he berated the smaller one. This was Bana. _The _Bana. The legendary nopon merchant, the magnitude of whose wealth was whispered of by all nopon. The Bana who had been a pirate, the scourge of the Cloud Sea, before he had settled down to lead the Argentum trade guild to glory and prominence. The most legendary of all living nopon. There were whispers, stories-they said Bana had the power to turn anything he touched to gold, that he had once entered a city without a penny and had owned all its major businesses in a week's time. Humans didn't know much about him – they never paid much attention to nopon legends – but to nopon, Bana was known to everyone, a living paragon of the nopon race.

"MuiMui sorry! MuiMui a fool!" Tora snapped back to reality as the smaller nopon wailed and groveled at Bana's feet, trembling.

"Out of my sight," Bana snarled. "Just be thankful you actually manage to capture Tora. Only silver lining in all this mess. If you hadn't I'd feed you to your Tirkin right now."

Bana watched as MuiMui rose to his feet, shaking, and dashed out the door, down the hallway, Lila trailing at his side. He sighed to himself in annoyance, and then turned his gaze to Tora. "Good hired help always so difficult to come by," he mused.

Tora looked at him in stunned silence for a moment. "Why...why Bana want to capture Tora?" he asked, finally.

Bana sighed again, hefting his massive girth as he walked towards Tora, seemingly unworried about being attacked by him as he walked within the reach of Tora's chain. He adjusted one of the rings on his wings, examining it idly. "You know, Tora's family...very odd, for nopon," he replied. "All of you obviously very, very smart. Bana like that. But...so odd for nopon. So odd."

"What Bana mean….?"

Bana turned around, gesturing to the factory's din behind him, the hammers ringing like bells throughout the halls. "You...create artificial blades. Glorious achievement. Could easily make you rich, almost as rich as Bana." He turned around, peering at Tora. "In fact, is why Bana made your dadapon and grampypon a very generous offer some time ago. Want to purchase artificial blade prototype. Didn't even want exclusive rights! Would have been enough for all of you to build your own personal blades, and then to retire and have a hundred generations of security. Very generous. But your grampypon and dadapon refuse to sell, no matter how much Bana offered."

Tora paused for a moment. "Of course would not sell," he replied. "Artificial blade meant to be companion. Dear friends and comrades. Not for sale."

Bana crossed his wings. "Your dadapon said the very same thing. Bana thought they holding on to prototype to sell for their own, to out-compete Bana. But...seems he was being honest. You see, yes? Very odd for a nopon! Get so attached to these...machines, these things-"

"They...not just machines!" Tora said, his voice rising. "They friends! Not things! Friends! Maybe a little flash and dazzle to get research funding, sure. But not for sale!"

Bana waved his wings idly. "Yes. Same oddness as your dadapon and grampypon. I expected as much. It okay. Bana can appreciate genius, even if it comes with oddness. You just not know what's good for you."

Suddenly, it dawned on Tora. "It...it was you," he said, eyes widening. "You...hired MuiMui to spy on us. And then to kidnap dadapon and Tora. It was you behind all this!"And at the same time, he felt a jolt of fear run through him. This was, after all, the legendary Bana. How brave had his grampypon and dadapon been, to stand up to this figure of walking myth itself?

"And look what I was able to do with you!" Bana retorted. "Bana put you to good use! Raking in millions from sale of artificial blade mass-production prototypes! Will probably make billions in the future! Your grampypon and dadapon had no _vision, _Tora! This could be the most successful business venture Bana ever participate in!" He glanced down at Tora, smiling wickedly. "You understand? It a partnership! Your family provide the technology, I provide the business smarts! Plenty of buyers for war machines, always! Together, we become nopons whose names echo throughout history for all time! Richer than entire nations! Rich enough to buy the Architect himself!" Bana laughed merrily. "Does Tora understand?"

Tora was quiet for a very, very long time. And then he swallowed his fear, and looked up at Bana, this legend among nopon, whose name he had heard whispered since he was a child. "Partners...do not kidnap partners," he muttered. "And...it wrong. Artificial blades not for selling. Artificial blades not for war. Artificial blades to let even people incompatible with normal blades experience companionship and bond with one. They...not things. Not weapons. Not machines. They _friends ! _And _friends not for sale!"_

Bana's eyes widened, and he sighed to himself, scratching his tuft of hair with one of his wings. "Just as odd as your dadapon," he muttered. "Well. No matter. Would like you to be partner. But will take you as slave if I have to." He turned around, bouncing out the door, waving one of his wings behind him, the jewels on it glinting in the dim orange glow of the factory. "I give you time to think about it. In the end, you not have much choice anyway."

**23.**

Rex wiped the sweat from his brow as he returned to the Palace, Malos walking, oddly quiet, by his side.

It was just last night that Tora had been kidnapped, and they had all split up to look for clues to his disappearance. Morag was attempting to detain possible witnesses, and Nia had taken Dromarch to try to follow the scent of Tirkin to see where they had snuck into the Palace. Rex and Malos, in the meantime, had hit the streets of Alba Cavanich, to see if there were any rumors flying around about the attack on the palace.

And oddly...there were not a lot. The explosions that had rocked through the palace, certainly all of Alba Cavanich had heard them, and they were talking about them, yes, but...people seemed oddly uninterested in them.

Rex began to understand, the more he talked to people. Alba Cavanich was a factory city. A city of hundreds of factories, in fact, if not thousands. Apparently industrial accidents and minor explosions were not that uncommon, echoing throughout the city's nights. Most people they spoke to seemed to assume that this was the case, that one of the factories had an accident.

But even among those who knew that this wasn't the case, that the explosions had originated from the palace...they seemed not to care too much about this, either. They assumed it was some weapon misfiring, or some tech demonstration gone wrong. This seemed...strange, to Rex. They were, after all, in the middle of a war with Uraya. Had they not thought that some attack on the palace might be their fault, at the very least?

And looking around, at the Titan-ship fleets darkening Mor Ardain's skies, at the soldiers lining its streets, he realized that no, they didn't. Mor Ardain stood so far above its military competitors that even in the middle of an active war with one, the idea that they might mount an attack on the capital was thought of as laughable. He wondered how much more comfortable that made the average Ardainian with the idea of war to begin with.

He glanced up at his blade. Malos had been fairly quiet today, seemingly lost in thought, uncharacteristic of the normally sarcastic and self-assured Aegis. Rex didn't know what he was thinking, and didn't want to pry.

They walked through the halls of the palace, finally arriving at the doors of their suite. "Man, I can't wait to take a shower," Rex sighed to himself, pushing them open. "We-what the hell!"

Inside their suite, in the common room, stood Pandy and Zeke. Zeke was leafing through one of Malos' books, hand on his chin, nodding sagely. And Pandoria…

"What the-lady, are you going through my underwear?!" Rex asked incredulously.

Pandoria looked up at him, startled. Then she looked down at her hands, which had a pair of Rex's underwear stretched between them. "No I'm not," she said. She quickly threw it behind her, crossing her hands across her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about. What underwear?"

"Don't mind Pandy. She's just convinced that it's not normal for guys to wear heart patterns on their underwear." Zeke narrowed his one good eye at her.

"Well _he _didn't have any," Pandy retorted.

"Rex, who the hell are these people?" Malos snapped irritably.

"No, don't-" Rex cried.

"Ah, that's right, we haven't met." Zeke lowered his head, then spun around dramatically, glaring up at Malos. "My name...IS ZEKE VON GEN-"

Malos held up a hand. "Alright. Good. Fine. Zeke." He glared at Pandoria. "And you?"

Pandy fidgeted to herself. "You really ought to let my Prince finish the introductions...but I'm Pandoria. Pandy for short."

"Okay." Malos pointed to the door. "Pandoria, Zeke, get the hell out of here."

"Oh, I'm afraid it won't be that simple," Zeke said, striding forward, smiling smugly. "You see, you and I have business…._Aegis._ You're coming with me."

"I am definitely not," Malos retorted.

"Then I will defeat your driver in battle," Zeke smirked, drawing his massive two-handed blade, "And take you by force."

"It doesn't work like that," Malos snapped. "It has _literally never _worked like that. I don't know where you people get these damn ideas. Even if you defeat my driver, I am under no obligation to go with you. I don't retreat into my core if my driver's defeated. If you defeat my driver, all that happens is that I get pissed off and then I'll probably just kill you."

Zeke and Pandy exchanged glances for a moment. "Wait, is that right?" Zeke asked.

"I don't get how Morag just let you wander around the palace like that after you threatened me the other night," Rex muttered under his breath.

"Morag just told me if I had business with you, to handle it in private. Regardless!" Zeke hefted his sword once more, smiling wickedly. "I still want to see for myself...the power of the Aegis!"

"Oh, I can give you some of that," Malos snarled, and suddenly black flames were crawling up and down his arms.

"No no no!" Rex snapped, waving his arms. "Stop! Stop this! We're guests here, we're not gonna blow up Morag's home fighting in the middle of it!"

Zeke paused for a moment, then sheathed his blade. "You know, I think you're right about that. It would be awfully rude."

Malos sighed, and the black flames crawling up and down his arms disappeared. There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Okay so _get out_," Malos said, finally.

"Now, hold on a moment. I need to make sure that the person wielding the power of the Aegis is the good-natured sort. That's my job here, see. The power of the Aegis can't be in the hands of just anyone." Zeke scratched his chin, then pointed dramatically at Rex. "YOU! What's your worst attribute!"

"Uh," Rex said. "I, um...laziness?"

"MONSTER," Zeke roared. He glanced down as Pandoria tugged insistently at his arm.

"Hey, my Prince," she said, gesturing towards the two. "You know, I get the feeling he's a pretty good dude. During the attack last night they helped in evacuating everyone. And ever since their friend went missing, he's done nothing but look for him. That doesn't seem like the sort of stuff a bad guy would do."

"Hmm. You really think so, Pandy?" Zeke scowled at them, narrowing his one gray eye. Rex reflected that he might actually be a pretty intimidating figure, tall, muscular, with a massive sword and only one eye, if he hadn't seen how ridiculous he could act. Finally, Zeke smiled, and ruffled Pandy's hair. "Well, you know, if you think so, I trust your judgment." He gestured grandly towards Malos and Rex. "Congratulations. You have passed….PANDORIA'S JUDGMENT!" he cried outrageously, as Pandy posed dramatically next to him.

There was another moment of silence.

"_Get the hell out!" _Malos shouted.

"Oh, right. Ought to give you your privacy." Zeke gave Rex a little half-salute as he walked out the door. "See you around, chum!"

Pandy followed him, but paused before Malos, squinting up at him.

"What is it," groaned Malos.

"Do _you _ever wear underwear with hearts on them?" Pandy asked, curiously.

"I'm counting to three," Malos replied, black flames appearing on his arms again. Pandoria whooped and dashed out the door after Zeke.

Rex and Malos stared at each other after the door closed behind them.

"Well, at least we probably won't have to deal with them again, right?" Rex laughed, optimistic.

**24.**

Brighid hummed quietly to herself as she walked down the hallway to the throne room. On the walls of the hallway, the portraits of the Emperors stared down at her. She glanced at them, from time to time, considering how many of these men of war she had been bonded to in former lives. If they were alive now, if she had met them now, would she like them as much as she had in her previous lives? She knew from her journal that she had always been devoted to the Emperors who she served. She thought of them as honorable, noble, good. But...how much of that had been the bond between blade and driver? If she met them now, in her current life, would she still consider them as noble? Some of these men, she knew, had inflicted the bloodiest wars to ever occur upon Alrest. Would she still…?

Shaking her head, she pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Regardless of the past Emperors, she knew what she thought of the current one, and she wasn't even bonded to him. She thought he was the sweetest, most pure-hearted boy she had ever met, and she was fiercely protective of him. She smiled down at the platter in her hands, upon which rested a steaming batch of fresh cookies and a tall glass of milk.

She didn't know what it was. Normally, she found children tiresome, and even found it slightly annoying how people seemed to dote on them. But Niall...perhaps it was because she had been bonded to so many Emperors in the past. Perhaps it was because she had seen him grow up. But she adored him, probably more than even Lady Morag knew. Seeing him smile and laugh bought joy to her heart. And seeing him as he was now, overworked and pushing himself to the edge….it worried her. That's why she was bringing him these cookies. She hadn't cooked them, of course, that was what kitchen staff was for. But it would be nice to bring him a snack.

She nodded at the guards standing at the door to the throne room, one saluting her, the other pushing it open for her.

She entered the golden, glowing throne room, glancing around a bit before she finally spotted Niall.

He was at his desk, papers piled up around him, collapsed across it in exhaustion, snoring peacefully.

She walked over to him, carefully, quietly, setting the platter down upon the desk, smiling down at him as he slept. He looked so torn, so...vulnerable, so mournful. Even in his sleep, dark circles lined his eyes, and a frown graced his normally cheerful face.

Tentatively, Brighid reached out, placing a hand against his face, and then gently stroking his hair. The burdens of sovereignty...Niall shouldn't have to shoulder them. No child should. It was the curse of his bloodline. He should be out, free to roam, play, explore, carefree...not fighting all alone against the damn, bloody tide of madness Mor Ardain seemed intent on hurtling toward-

Brighid paused, surprised at herself. She had...never thought of Mor Ardain like that before. Normally, she tried to remain strictly removed from politics. It was her role to serve, not to steer the ship of state. It wasn't her business. But she knew that Lady Morag had become….more opposed to the war after her time in Uraya. Brighid had never felt anything about it personally...but…

Now, looking at poor, sweet Niall, one child, alone, heroically trying to stop it all...for the first time that she could remember, she found herself hating the idea of the approaching invasion. She wondered if she had ever felt this way before, ever, in her existence. If she had, there was nothing about it in her journal. She must remember to jot it down.

She glanced behind her as she heard the sound of the throne room door opening once again. It was Aegaeon, looking tense, his hand on the hilt of his blade. He nodded at her as he walked in, a grim expression on his obsidian face, his eyes narrow, glowing slits.

Brighid knew how badly the breach in security had shamed him. He was normally in charge of palace security, and she knew how personally he took it that a band of armed Tirkin had been able to sneak onto palace grounds. He had personally interrogated all guards posted that night, replaced them with a completely new regiment…

But it seemed he didn't know who to trust anymore. He felt besieged, even as the blade of the Emperor within his own palace. And Brighid had to admit, things...seemed pretty bad. Aegaeon was no slouch about security. For the Tirkin to have been able to make their way past his guard, it must mean that...there were a lot of soldiers among the palace guard who didn't care about the security of the Emperor. It was one thing for there to be Senators who disliked the Emperor. For the palace guard to be so infiltrated by soldiers disloyal enough to look the other way while an armed band made their way through palace grounds…?

The more Brighid thought about it, the more suspicious it seemed. The armed forces in general still seemed loyal to the Emperor. For the palace guard to be so unreliable...someone had to be shuffling compromised soldiers specifically into the palace guard. Weakening security around the Emperor. But...for what purpose? Just so that some Tirkin could sneak past and kidnap a random nopon…? It didn't make any sense.

But Aegaeon had taken to prowling the hallways of the palace himself, alone, as if he could guard the entire building himself. Brighid couldn't help but smile ruefully. That was Aegaeon all over, to his very core. If he couldn't rely on someone else to do it, he'd do it himself, even if it was an impossible task.

She approached him, a fond smile on her face. Aegaeon...was a comfort. Her drivers, she knew from her journal, came and went. Emperors, too. But Aegaeon...although every time she awoke with a new driver, she did not remember him, Aegaeon was a constant. He was there, in every page of her journal, her one constant companion across all of her lives, the one thing that always remained the same. And it was reassuring to know that he maintained his personality so much across all his incarnations: Her journal invariably described him as quiet, stoic, fiercely loyal, a little uptight. And there were so many stories in her journal of their adventures together, tomes of them...if there was one lifelong friend she had, it was Aegaeon. She knew he didn't think of things the same way she did. Aegaeon had the...self-assurance to not care what happened in his past lives. Or maybe it was just a lack of curiousity. But it was nice to know that...there was someone always there, always with her, across all her incarnations.

"How is he?" Aegaeon asked, softly, as she drew near.

"He was sleeping when I came in." Brighid raised an eyebrow at him. "You should remember to get your sleep as well, you know."

Aegaeon grimaced, rubbing his face. "I...can't sleep. Something just isn't right. The palace guard...they were so compromised, right under my nose."

"I was thinking the same thing," Brighid replied. She was going to continue, but she noticed Aegaeon's eyes darting around quickly, and he broke into speech before she could.

"I've...done some investigating," Aegaeon continued quietly. "There was a loophole where Senators could request a change in their personal guard, and then cycle that guard into the palace guard itself. They were doing it slowly enough that I didn't even notice that nearly half of the guard had been replaced by some of their own handpicked sources."

Brighid felt a chill run through her. "So...what are you saying? The Senate itself was responsible for undermining security?" She put a hand to her mouth in shock when Aegaeon nodded quietly. "For...what purpose?"

"I can't say just yet," Aegaeon muttered grimly. "And...I don't have the authority or the standing to interrogate the Senators themselves." He shook his head. "But it couldn't have been just to let a band of Tirkin waltz into the palace to kidnap a nopon they didn't even know exist until last week."

"You've replaced them all, haven't you?"

"I've been trying. But nearly two thousand men compose the palace guard. I couldn't tell which ones were compromised or not, so I've had to just replace them all. It...takes time to cycle in that many new men. Especially with so many on the front lines." He shook his head. "Security...is still so weak. There are so many holes. I'm concerned for the Emperor's safety."

Brighid reached out with a comforting hand. "Don't worry. Lady Morag and myself will be here to help. I can tell you Morag won't leave her brother's side until security is up to speed."

Aegaeon gave her a quiet, evaluating look. "To be honest, I worry for Lady Morag's safety as well. She's a target herself."

Brighid laughed softly. "You let me worry about Lady Morag's safety. We can take care of ourselves."

Aegaeon nodded silently, then moved to walk past her. On a whim, Brighid held out a hand, stopping him. He looked at her curiously.

"Aegaeon," she murmured. "This...may sound...odd. But...how do you feel things are...doing? I've been away for a while. But….with the invasion….with Mor Ardain...how do you think things are?"

Aegaeon was quiet for a long time, staring straight ahead, further into the throne room. He cast his eyes upward, looking out at the stormy sky above the glass dome of the throne room, and then turned his unblinking, hard gaze toward her. And then he said something she had never heard him say before.

"I'm afraid," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

**25.**

Nia awoke to the sound of loud, massive slams, the impacts reverberating through her. She jolted up in her bed, rubbing her eyes. "What the bloody hell…?" she muttered, nimbly leaping down from her bed. She glanced around. Dromarch was in the corner of the room, his eyes wide, panicked. Another slam rang through the palace, and his tail flicked wildly.

She crossed through the common living space, the slams getting louder and louder. She poked her head out the door to the suite, walking down the long stone hallway. Dust shook from the walls as she drew closer and closer to the origin of the slams.

Finally, she found the source. It was Poppi, punching a large stone support pillar, over and over again, two small fist-shaped holes already punched into it.

Nia sighed. It had been a few days since Tora had been kidnapped already. Poppi had wanted to go out and go looking for him right away, combing over the desert itself if necessary. But there was no way to know where he had been taken, and any information gathering they had managed to do in town – which wasn't much – had been largely fruitless. The members of the party Tora had been at – even though they had been a target of the attack – seemed intimidated, reluctant to give any information as to who could be behind it. Morag had attempted to hold some of them for questioning, but between their wealth and political connections they had managed to slip away before they could really be put to an interrogation. None of the palace staff had been any help at all, reluctant to even say how or why the Tirkin had managed to infiltrate. All they knew was what Poppi herself had been able to tell them – that the nopon that attacked them had been called MuiMui, and was clearly the nopon who had attacked Tora's family before.

"What is all this racket…?"

Nia spun around to see Rex, rubbing his eyes, blinking groggily at the sun. He frowned, sighing as he saw Poppi slamming her fists into the stone pillar. "Oh...Poppi, come on now. You can't do that, you'll wake up half the palace."

Poppi spun around, her orange eyes flickering dangerously. "Poppi not care," she declared, as angry as Rex or Nia had ever seen her. "Been three days and masterpon still missing. Three days! Who...who know what they doing to...my Tora," she murmured, slowly getting quieter as she continued on.

"Well, c'mon, keep your chin up," Nia said, trying to console her. "You said yourself that MuiMui said he wanted Tora for his brains, right? They kidnapped him, yeah? That means they want to keep him alive. He's out there somewhere, we'll find him."

Poppi covered her face with her hands. "Masterpon have very specific needs. Who will brush his fur? Or make sure he gets his favorite breakfast of tasty sausages? Who will help him organize his design notes? Or guard the door when he goes to the bathroom so nobody else comes in? Masterpon very shy when it comes to biological functions." She sniffled, removing her hands, looking at them with mechanical eyes full of despair. "Who...who will repair Poppi?" she wailed.

"Wait, you did all that for Tora?" Nia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Masterpon….conceited, but it true he complete genius. But he so forgetful...his brain so full of other important thoughts! He...he need Poppi to help him." The mechanical girl looked down at the ground. "And Poppi need him."

"Don't worry," Rex said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Like Nia said, we'll get him back. Tora's a smart guy, I'm sure he's fine..."

"Not worry," Poppi said quietly, shaking her head, looking down at the ground. She laughed softly to herself. "Not worry? How could Poppi not worry?" She looked up, her eyes flashing. "Nia and Rex...are not blades. Not understand. With masterpon gone and in danger...Poppi's heart is breaking. Poppi's job is to protect masterpon. Poppi failed and...it hurts so much."

"I might understand more than you know," Nia murmured quietly.

Poppi kicked at the floor in frustration. "If only Poppi's jet boots were not broken. Poppi would fly above the sands and track down masterpon if she had to fly over the entire desert."

Rex scratched his chin, suddenly. "Well. I dunno if zipping about the desert would really be useful. But you know, I can be pretty handy. If it'll make you feel better, why don't you let me take a look? Maybe I could get your jets working again."

"Rex really think so?" Poppi sniffled.

"Sure, lemme give it a shot. C'mon, sit down on this windowsill over here..."

Rex led the mechanical girl to a stone windowsill seating a large, towering window. Nia sat down next to her and watched with some interest as Rex knelt on the floor, taking out a screwdriver from a small pouch on his salvager's outfit. "Alright, let's just take a look here," he muttered, as he deftly unscrewed the bottom panel of Poppi's outfit. "Might have just been the igniter got bent, or..."

Suddenly, there was a clattering as the contents of Poppi's foot spilled out onto the floor.

"Ah," Rex said. "Hmm. Uh."

Nia and Poppi watched as Rex fiddled around with the complex, intricate, tiny metal pieces of Poppi's foot for a while. After a moment, Rex cleared his throat. "Ah, Nia," he said, an edge of panic in his voice, "D'you mind, um...coming here and holding something real quick?"

Nia hopped down from the windowsill to crouch next to Rex, and stifled a gasp as she saw the interior of Poppi's foot and the mess of pieces on the floor before Rex's knees. It was a mess of gears, cables, wiring, mysterious pieces of machinery tinier and more complex than she could have believed. "Bloody hell, Rex, what have you done?" she whispered furiously, leaning in towards him so Poppi wouldn't hear.

"I...I have no idea what any of this is," Rex whispered back. "Help me."

"Architect's arse. What do you want me to do?! I don't know anything about this either!"

"Look...just...here, hold this..."

"No! Rex-wait, damn it-"

"What going on down there?" Poppi asked suspiciously, looking down at them with eyes narrowing.

"Nothing!" Rex smiled up at her, as he shoved a pile of gears into Nia's hands. "Almost done! Don't worry!"

"Almost done?" Nia hissed angrily at Rex, as he stared in despair at the pile of gears before him. "Almost done, he says!"

"I don't want to make her feel worse. Here, just...help me...sort of...cram it back in there..."

"Titan's tits. I swear. Okay...let's just..."

"Hold that, or it's going to spill out-"

"Oh, gears spilling out, that really seems like something that should happen-"

"Quiet! Let me….okay, hold the plate in place..."

Nia rolled her eyes as Rex got to his feet, dusting off his hands, after screwing the plate on the bottom of Poppi's foot back in place. Poppi looked up at him dubiously, then shook her foot, which made a loud rattling noise. "Poppi's foot feels funny," she muttered. "Jets….still not work." She put her hands to her face in despair. "Rex has only made things worse! Only sweet Tora has knowledge and expertise to repair Poppi!"

"I'm sorry, Poppi," Rex said bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. "I promise you, we're gonna find Tora-"

Poppi let out a growl of frustration, with a slight metallic screech to it. She removed her hands from her face, eyes glowing bright orange, glaring with anger at Rex and Nia. "What is Poppi even doing here!" she snapped. "Poppi cannot stand it anymore! Poppi must find her Tora!"

Rex and Nia exchanged worried glances as Poppi stormed off, throwing her hands in the air, her foot rattling with every step.

**26.**

Poppi stomped angrily through the halls of the palace, frowning at her rattling foot, sighing in frustration at the clattering it produced. "Stupid Rex," she muttered to herself. But she immediately felt bad for it. Rex had only been trying to help, to try to make her feel better. She should have known better than to let him try to tinker around with her foot. Her masterpon really was one of a kind. No one was genius enough to fix her like her masterpon. Her...Tora. Her…

She put her hands to her chest as a spike of sorrow and pain shot through her. She had never felt something quite like this, even when Vandham had died. It was shame, worry, fear, and a deep, wracking sense of loss. She had wondered, at first, if it had been the ether connection being severed. But that didn't make sense, Tora had been out of the range of their ether connection for an extended period of time before, and it had never felt bad like this.

This was something...deeper. Something that went further than the simple ether connection. Something that was fundamental about the connection between driver and blade. She felt...half-empty, not being able to be there to protect him, not knowing whether or not he was alive. It was an awful, endless feeling. Nia and Rex could not possibly understand. It was something only blades could feel, she was sure of it.

She tramped up a set of stone stairs, ones which led up to a balcony, seeking solace in solitude. But when she opened the door to the balcony, someone was already there.

It was Pandoria, the blade of that funny Zeke man, leaning over the edge of the balcony, peering down below. Poppi was annoyed to find her here at first. But then she reconsidered. It might be worth talking to...a fellow blade about this. Even if she was artificial, maybe Pandoria knew what she was feeling too.

Pandoria glanced over at her as she approached, her eyes hidden behind the glare of her glasses. "Oh. Hey. You're that...artificial blade girl, right?"

"Yes. You are Pandoria, yes?"

The blade laughed, her odd sharp ears twitching and long cabled tail flicking back and forth. "Yeah, sure. But you can just call me Pandy. Your name is...Poppi, right? Hey, sorry about your driver, you know. But at least you know he's still alive, right?"

Poppi looked up at her curiously. "How would Poppi know he still alive?"

"Because if he wasn't, you'd return to your...wait, I guess that's probably not how it works for you, huh?" Pandy ran her hands through her mop of green hair bashfully. "I...look, just, sorry, alright? I'm...sure you'll find him."

"Poppi...wanted to ask you question," the artificial blade said quietly. She held her hands to her chest, staring up at Pandy. "It….feel so empty without Tora. Finding him all Poppi can think about. I...never feel like this before."

Pandy whistled, staring off the edge of the balcony out towards the smog-covered streets of Alba Cavanich stretching before them. "Yeah, I think I know how you feel," she said after a moment. "There was a time when I thought….I was gonna lose Zeke. And...it felt like my world was splitting in two. I guess that's just the way us blades were made."

"It funny, because...when masterpon with me, he can….be….a burden, sometimes," Poppi said delicately. "But now that he gone, all Poppi can think about are...all the ways her Tora is so wonderful. Why it like this…?"

Pandy laughed. "Oh, I definitely get that. I mean, my Zeke can definitely be a little much sometimes, too. But….well, come here, look over the side…."

Poppi approached the edge of the balcony, peering over the edge of it, down towards where Pandy had been watching. There, perhaps thirty feet below, lounging in one of the interior gardens of the palace, was Zeke, laying in the grass, shirtless, basking in the sun.

"Wow, Zeke pretty ripped," Poppi chirped.

"Oho, believe me, I know," Pandy said from her side. She held a hand out, so Poppi could see. In her palm was a large spider. "Watch this. He hates spiders."

Pandy leaned over the edge of the balcony, extending her hand carefully, and then opened her palm, so that the spider dropped from her hand directly onto Zeke's chest, landing with a distinct plopping sound.

Zeke immediately opened his eyes, and looked down at his chest. "Oh...oh...Architect's balls, no," he whispered, freezing immediately. The spider began crawling up his chest, towards his face. "Oh no, no no no no," he cried, sitting up, scrambling backward. Then he calmed himself, steeled himself, and scooped the spider off his chest, and with panicked, quick movements, set it on the tree in the center of the garden. "There you go, you little nuisance," he muttered. "Interrupting my tanning session, how rude. You just stay there, now." And then he settled back into the grass, laid back, and closed his eyes again.

Back up on the balcony, Pandoria sighed adoringly, wrapping her arms around herself as she watched this.

"Poppi...does not understand," Poppi said quietly.

Pandoria sighed, blushing a bit as she stared down at Zeke. "Even though he hates spiders, when one dropped right onto him, he didn't go smashing it. He just moved it somewhere else. Because he'll never kill anything at all if he doesn't have to." She glanced down at Poppi, smiling. "Even though he can be a total dork sometimes, even though he can be a bit much to deal with...I see things like that, and I just melt. Even though sometimes he can get on my nerves, there's a thousand little things about him that I love. And it's those things about him that I miss the most when he's away. I don't think 'Oh well, Zeke's gone, I don't have to deal with him being such a dork'. I miss all the little beautiful, adorable things about him." Pandy put a finger to her lips, considering. "And his abs. Definitely his abs the most."

Poppi paused, considering for a moment. "Does Pandy...love Zeke?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. I mean, you love Tora, don't you?"

"No, Poppi means, in the...romance way. The one where you want to-" she mashed her fingers together in a twirling motion.

"Oh. Uh. Well I'm not sure what that finger motion is supposed to be, but...well yeah, totally. How could I not? _Look _at that."

Poppi sighed in relief. Finally, someone who could admit it openly. "What would Pandy do...if Zeke was taken like Tora was?" she asked curiously.

Pandoria paused for a moment. "To be honest...I'd cry at first," she laughed. "But then I'd...tear the world upside down looking for him. I'd never stop until I had found him or I retreated back to my core."

Poppi nodded. She wasn't alone. She felt exactly the same way. "Poppi knows now what she must do," she whispered to herself.

"Hey, wanna toss more spiders on Zeke?"

**27.**

Malos was intensely aware of Sylvie staring at him.

Ever since Tora's kidnapping, when they had come back in from the desert and discovered what had happened, Malos had spent most of his days with Rex, Nia, Dromarch, and occasionally Brighid and Morag when they weren't busy helping Niall, canvassing Alba Cavanich, looking for clues as to where he could have been taken. It had been a largely fruitless search, so far. And how could it be anything but? What would the common people know about palace intrigue?

But at nights, when they returned to the palace, he'd find Sylvie staring at him. Hiding, thinking she hadn't been spotted – sometimes peaking around the corner of a palace, sometimes simply staring at him from across the common dining area of the palace.

That was where he was now, in a large, ornate dining hall, where Senators and other important officials would gather to eat when they didn't take their meals back to their private quarters, sitting next to Rex and Nia as they quietly ate. Zeke and Pandy were there too, sitting down the table from them, as well as Morag and Brighid, with Aegaeon, talking amongst themselves, most likely about palace security. Other Senators and officials milled about, talking quietly at other tables. And a few tables back, there was Sylvie, staring at him with those intense blue eyes.

Malos had been thinking about what she had said, out there in the desert. He had to admit...it made a certain kind of sense. He had no desire to help Mor Ardain conquer the world. But with their industrial-age technology, they were the nation best suited to exploit the dwindling resources of Alrest until a more permanent solution could be found to why the Titans were dying off. Even if the world hated them for it, even if they went down as the villains of history. And…

He looked down, next to him, where Rex sat, scarfing down his food. It was true. Rex was so young. He was willing to shoulder the burden of the power of the Dark Aegis. But when someone was that young, could they ever really be counted on to make a smart decision for themselves…? Rex...was all too willing to throw his life away for others. Could he even encompass what that would really mean…? Had...Hugo, when he had thrown himself recklessly into the crossfire between Malos and Mythra?

It was true, Rex prioritized what Malos thought was more important – going to Elysium, so Father could be confronted. But he could hardly blame Sylvie for thinking it was more important to secure a stable position here on Alrest, first. After all, to most people, Elysium was just a myth, a legend. But...was that selfish of him? To want to endanger someone so young and naive, just because they happened to agree with his goal prioritization more than other possible candidates?

Malos continued looking down at Rex with hollow eyes. Would there come a day when he had to hold Rex's lifeless body in his hands, killed by his own power? Was that really what he wanted? More of the young and noble, dead by his hand? Before, if someone said they were willing, Malos would have held them to it – they were their own person, responsible for themselves. But thinking like that had led to Hugo's death. It could lead to Rex's death. Death was no stranger to Malos, and thinking about it in a purely theoretical sense, he would have been fine with it…

But the actuality, the reality of Hugo dying by his hand had shaken him. And Rex...should Rex die in the same way, it would shake him as well. It seemed strange, in a way, almost a foreign concept to him to care about it like this. He couldn't understand _why _he should care, or feel the way he did. But he did, nonetheless. Perhaps there were certain...limitations, boundaries...that being in this form put on him after staying in it for a protracted amount of time.

Of course, if he went with Sylvie, the young and noble would die at his hand as well. No matter what course he chose, the good were destined to die at his hand. He put down his fork, considering.

Maybe...Mythra had been right, in a way. She was still much more of a monster than he was. But they were still both monsters, all the same. When something was tearing out your throat, whether it was a demon or a wolf made very little difference.

He looked up as the doors to the dining hall slammed open suddenly, pushed aside by something with great strength. Behind them lay Poppi, with a determined look on her face. On her back she carried a backpack, and it looked like she had put a fresh coat of paint on the X painted across her face.

She marched forward, purposefully, metal feet slamming against the polished stone floor, one of her feet rattling as she marched. She stopped a few feet from the table, as Rex, Nia, Brighid, Morag, Zeke and Pandy looked up at her, expectantly.

"Poppi," she said, "Cannot wait anymore. She is going out into the desert to search for her Tora."

"Poppi..." Rex began, but the artificial blade held up a hand, silencing him.

"No buts," she replied. "Information gathering is useless. Poppi..." she choked up slightly. "Poppi just cannot bear the thought of what is happening to Tora anymore. Already mapped out a grid pattern search with algorithms to increase efficiency of search coverage by 90% from typical human search strategies. Poppi will comb the entire desert if she has to." She stomped her foot, with a rattle. "Poppi will go with or without you."

There was a moment of silence. "Of...course we'll go with you," Rex said, the first to break it. "I will, anyway. I would never leave Tora behind."

"I'll go too," Nia added quickly.

Morag, Brighid and Aegaeon exchanged worried glances. "I...I would go with you," Morag began, faltering. "But...after the attack on the palace...the security, my brother...I...want to remain at his side, to ensure that nothing happens…."

"It's alright, Morag, it's completely understandable," Rex began, but was interrupted by Zeke.

"Why don't I go with you, instead of Morag?" he suggested. Pandy beamed up at him, and curled her arm around his. "It sounds like you could use someone with experience to tag along. And I can't stand the sight of a sad girl missing her driver."

"Uh," Nia said, narrowing her eyes at him, "Weren't you trying to steal Rex's blade just a few days ago?"

Zeke dramatically flung a finger to point at her. As he did, a turtle slipped out of his sleeve and flew across the table, landing in her salad, where it immediately began lazily chewing on a leaf. She eyed this incredulously as he spoke. "Listen here, kitty. That's all water under the bridge. I just wanted to make sure that the person wielding that sort of power was the good-hearted type."

"I….don't know..." Rex muttered, eyeing Zeke suspiciously.

"Am I the only one who sees this turtle?" Nia asked, looking around. "Anyone else…? Please tell me I'm not crazy."

Morag sighed, rolling her eyes at Zeke, before looking back to Poppi and Rex. "I...am loathe to admit it," she started, grimacing as Zeke began to smirk, "But...Zeke is...a very good-hearted person. If you're wondering whether you can trust him, you absolutely can."

Her grimace became deeper as Zeke began preening, putting his face in his hands, leaning across the table. "Oh, Morag. Do go on."

"And...he is a swordsman of legendary capability," Morag continued, forcing herself, as if she was biting off the end of every word. "I have no doubt...that you'd be much safer with him at your side. I would personally feel better if he accompanied you."

"Hm...well, if you trust him, Morag, then I do too," Rex said, after a moment's consideration. "Sure. We'll have you along as well."

Everyone looked at Poppi as she suddenly began sniffling. She covered her face with her hands, crying into them.

"Oh, Poppi, don't worry, we'll find him, I swear," Nia said softly, but Poppi shook her head.

"Is not that. Poppi...thought she might have to do this alone." She wiped her eyes, smiling for the first time they had seen since Tora's disappearance. "Poppi is...happy her Tora has such amazing friends."

Poppi insisted on leaving as soon as possible, but they managed to convince her to wait until at least the next morning. Night was already falling.

Rex and Malos retired to their suite after dinner. As they entered, Malos quickly noticed that their usually well-lit common room was entirely dark, cloaked in shadow. His eyes darted around, drinking in information, as a familiar voice echoed out from the darkness.

"Are you alone?"

"Who's there?" Rex snapped, reaching for a light.

"Don't turn it on. Nobody can know I'm in here."

"Sylvie?" Malos said.

From the darkness, the face of the Senator swam out, bathed in pale moonlight, her sharp eyes icy glints in the shadows of the room. She wore a long dark trenchcoat covered in the Brionac regalia, silver skulls glowing in the moonlight, while the dark fabric of the cloth merged her with the shadow. "Is Morag with you?" she asked, quietly.

"Lady, what are you doing in our suite? How do people keep on busting in here?" Rex snapped, but Malos put out a hand to stop him from rushing forward.

"No, we're alone."

Sylvie glanced down at Rex, frowning, then flicked her eyes back to Malos. She crossed her arms, tapping her foot, silent for a long moment. "What I tell you about now, can never make it way back to her, you understand?"

"No," Rex replied. "Morag's a friend. I'm not going to keep secrets from her."

"Then I can't help you." Sylvie twisted her cap down on top of her head, and made to move toward the door.

"Wait," Malos said, blocking her path. She looked up at him. She looked...troubled, conflicted. "What is it you could help us with?"

Sylvie sighed. "I know where your friend is being kept."

**Note:**

Hey, sorry for the long absence, I got really crushed at the end of the semester and sort of fell out of my writing schedule. I'm hoping now to get back into my weekly update schedule. It might take some tries to get back onto weekly updates (especially since the next chapter looks like it is shaping up to be a very long one) but I hope that eventually I'll get back on track.

As always comments are very much appreciated!


	17. Chapter 17

**28.**

Sylvie sighed to herself as she unrolled a large map onto the coffee table in the common room of Rex and Malos' suite, Rex and Malos flanking her on both sides of the sofa they shared. "What I am about to tell you is...no one can know," she muttered, dragging a hand across her face. "You...just can't tell Morag."

Rex harrumphed angrily to himself. On the promise of getting information about Tora's location, he had agreed to keep Sylvie's secrets safe. He didn't like it, not one bit, keeping secrets from friends. But he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Without information on where Tora actually was, they could be combing the desert for months and not find anything.

Sylvie examined the map for a moment, then removed a pen from her jacket, pulling off the cap with her teeth. She made a mark on the map in an area labeled with some buildings. "At this location," she muttered around the cap, "There is a factory."

"Those all look like empty buildings," Malos said quietly.

"They were. Old mining town in the desert, called Victis." Sylvie leaned back from the map. "Abandoned nearly a century ago when the mines dried up. It used to have one of Mor Ardain's largest tank factories, since it was so convenient to transport resources from the mine straight to the factory. Was a comprehensive factory, too – had all the equipment to take in raw ore and spit out a tank on the other side. The factory was abandoned...until recently."

"So what's being made there now?" Rex glanced up at the woman. She looked down at him, trouble still written on her face. And...a trace of anger at him, maybe? He watched her as she turned to look at Malos, examining her expression carefully. When she looked at him, she had such admiration written on her features. What had happened on that date Malos had gone on with her?

"I guess you'll find out soon enough, no point in keeping it secret," Sylvie muttered. "It's an artificial blade factory."

Rex's eyes widened in surprise. He had never even heard of artificial blades until he had run across Tora. For Mor Ardain to have an entire factory for them…

"Why is this such a secret?" Malos' face was cloaked in shadow.

Sylvie's shoulders hunched over as she answered. "What's going on there…isn't strictly legal. Foreigners aren't allowed to own businesses in Mor Ardain. And that factory is owned by one of the nopon trade guild masters. Bana."

Rex looked up in shock. "Wait. Bana? Bana of Argentum?"

Sylvie glanced down at him. "That's right."

Rex leaned forward in shock. "I...wow….well, I guess maybe I shouldn't be too surprised. Bana did take frequent business trips. Still, small world."

"Bana. Isn't that the guy you were working for before you found me?" Malos asked.

Sylvie looked between the both of them in shock. "What, you...know Bana?"

Rex laughed. "In a way, it's thanks to him that we met in the first place. But wait, what are you saying? Bana was the one who kidnapped Tora…? Why?"

"I couldn't really say," Sylvie said with exasperation. "Bana's not exactly under my command or anything. He's got his own motives. Probably got something to do with the fact your friend had an artificial blade of his own. I...tried getting him to give him up, but he has no intention of doing so."

She paused, considering. Then she leaned forward to mark the map again. "Approaching the factory directly probably isn't the best idea. Here, by this outcropping, there's an old mining tunnel that accidentally punched through the factory walls one day. It all got patched up, but I'm sure a big strong man like yourself can find a way to bust through." She smiled wanly up at Malos, who remained completely impassive.

Rex was the one to ask what was on Malos' mind. He was a clever kid, when he wanted to be. "Hold on," he said, pausing for a moment. "So...this factory is secret, right? You don't want Morag, or presumably the Emperor to know. And it's pumping out artificial blades. So...who else does know about it? I don't suppose it's _just _you."

Sylvie was silent, stone, not looking at Rex.

"What you are talking about here," Rex snapped, "is a damn secret army."

"It's a Brionac party secret, isn't it," Malos said, quietly. Sylvie looked at him, eyes unreadable. "That's a dangerous game, you and your friends are playing. In pretty much any nation in the world, this would be considered treason. And why the need for a secret army at all?"

"Right, first off," Sylvie said, getting defensive, "This isn't _that _unusual in Mor Ardain. Lots of the nobility and even the factory owners have their own little private armies of mercs and men at their beck and call. It's a...political bargaining chip, you might say. Emperor keeps being hardheaded about the invasion, Brionac reveals a new corps of artificial blades, fancy shiny, people go nuts, gives us political leverage, you know." She sighed, leaning back, placing the cap back on her pen. "That's why I don't want Morag to know. They know ahead of time, they might get a stick up their ass about the law, shut the whole operation down, no matter how valuable a contribution it would be to the war effort."

Malos was silent. He wondered if Sylvie really could be that naive. She might claim it was just for political leverage, but there was no way he was buying that. There were ways to get political leverage without having an army completely under the control of the Brionac party, with no loyalty to the Emperor.

"Well," Rex said, finally, leaning forward to roll up the map. "Assuming you're telling the truth...thanks, I suppose. I gotta say, I do feel pretty good about our chances. If there's one thing Bana likes to skimp on, it's security."

Sylvie eyed him dubiously. "Look, kid. I don't know how you knew Bana before. But I suggest you don't underestimate him. He didn't get where he is by being an idiot. There's not a nopon alive more ruthless than him."

Rex paused as he stood with the rolled-up map. "Sure, sure," he said, smiling. But really, how bad could it be? This was Bana they were talking about. A loudmouth with lots of money, sure, but that's all he really was. "I'm gonna go stash this," he said, waggling the map.

As Rex walked away, Sylvie rose to leave herself. Malos grabbed her arm before she could go. She looked down at him in surprise. His face was still completely cloaked in shadow. "So," he began, "Why did you tell us all this?"

Sylvie was silent.

"This puts you in danger," he continued. "Giving up a party secret? One of this magnitude? That's why you had to come here in secrecy, right? What's your angle? Trying to win my trust by giving up secrets to me?"

"No," Sylvie replied, quietly. "I...just didn't think it was right that your friend was kidnapped. Isn't that enough…?"

Malos stared at her, as she stood there, framed in the light of the window, the silver skulls of her uniform burning with an eerie blue glow in the pale moonlight, looking down at him with such a sincere expression, and he believed her. This woman, who had told him she wanted to conquer the world, to initiate the largest war Alrest had ever known, to mark her name in history with blood, looked sad, vulnerable, even in her killer's uniform. And for the first time, he understood what the horror of what people called the Clockwork Demon really was. How it could reach down, through the centuries of violence, how it could make lunacy seem sane, how it could make jackals even out of the kind-hearted.

He released her hand, and she clutched it to her chest as if she had been burnt. She turned again to leave, but paused at the door, looking back at him. "I'm...not a bad person," she murmured.

Malos was quiet for a long moment, as she lingered there at the door. Finally, he sighed. He wondered, in another life, raised in another place, what Sylvie might have grown to be. He looked at her, and he felt something he had rarely ever felt before.

He felt pity.

"I believe you."

**29.**

The next day, Zeke, Pandoria, Nia, Dromarch, Rex, Malos and Poppi all gathered in the motorpool of the palace. Poppi had been more than willing to go trekking out into the desert on foot, but Morag had arranged for them to have some vehicles. "It is the least I could do," she said, as she met them in the motorpool. Nia felt somewhat bad for her. She could tell Morag was ashamed that she couldn't attend them in the search for Tora, but she was unwilling to leave her brother's side.

The vehicles she arranged for them were small, light, off-road military vehicles, squat and square, with four large, broad tires for finding purchase in loose sand, not weighed down by much armor. "I...hmm," Morag said, staring at the vehicles. "I don't suppose I considered who would be driving. Have any of you…?" 

"I think I could handle it," Rex piped up, his eyes gleaming with interest.

"Yeah, how hard could it be?" Nia spoke up as well. Sure, she had never driven something like this before. But it looked kind of neat. And it seemed simple enough. "Just spin the wheel, right?"

Morag eyed the two of them dubiously. "I don't think so." Her eyes flicked upward, to Zeke. "Well, I know you have some experience driving, Zeke." He grinned, tipping his fingers towards her in a casual salute. "But who else..."

"I think I can probably handle it," Malos spoke up. Morag turned toward him, raising a curious eyebrow. "Let's just say I've handled more complex machinery than this in the past," he said sardonically.

"Fair enough," Morag replied.

Poppi was outright shivering with excitement and impatience. "Daylight burning!" she cried. "Drivers decided? Then we go now!" She pulled out a small map, covered in complex-looking paths and mathematical equations. "We follow Poppi's optimal search pattern. We-"

"Actually, Poppi," Rex said, as he and Malos glanced at each other, "We...got a bit of a tip last night as to where Tora might be kept. We have a location we think we should check first."

"Oh, really?" Morag said, interested. "What sort of tip?"

Rex was quiet for a moment, as he unrolled a map of his own. "Ah. Just, uh. Someone who said they thought they saw where the blade who kidnapped him touched down in the desert." He grimaced, and Nia cocked an eyebrow, curiously. Rex was a very bad liar.

Morag looked as if she could tell as well, but she kept her silence. If she was hurt, she didn't show it. "Hmm. Fair enough. I'll leave you to it. I wish you the best of luck." She left, quickly walking back to the palace, her boots clicking against the pavement.

They split up into their different vehicles. With Malos and Rex leading the way, Poppi insisted on traveling with them so she could see where they were going. That left Nia and Dromarch to ride in the vehicle Zeke was driving. She sighed, climbing into the back as Pandy and Zeke took up the front seats. "Whoa!" she cried, as the vehicle lurched forward, with stronger acceleration than she had been expecting, as Zeke slammed on the gas, following after Malos. She glared up at him. "Hey, don't go nuts on the gas, yeah?"

"Quiet, backseat driver," Zeke drawled, grinning as he followed Malos out the gates of Mor Ardain, out into the desert. Sand kicked up behind them in massive clouds as the vehicles tore across the harsh desert of Mor Ardain, Alba Cavanich disappearing quickly behind them.

Nia looked out the window, watching the terrain speed by in interest. It seemed that in the harsh light of the sun, many of the more vicious-looking creatures she had seen on her first ride in to the city had gone into hiding. It made sense that they'd mostly be night-hunters. Who would want to deal with baking in the oppressive desert heat all day?

She poked her head around the front seat, glancing out the windshield, looking at the vehicle racing ahead of them. Malos seemed to be having a fun time driving, taking jumps off of small dunes and rock outcroppings.

She wondered why it was that Rex had lied to Morag. Rex...she knew him well enough to know he wasn't a natural liar. He wouldn't have done it unless he had a good reason. She realized, with a bit of a start, that that was the first time she had ever thought that way about anyone in years. She...had become so used to running, and lying herself, that she just assumed lies came naturally to people. For so long, the only one she had ever really trusted was Dromarch. She glanced over to her side, where Dromarch was curled in the seat next to her, resting his head in her lap as she idly scratched behind his ears. And even Dromarch...she'd never assume that he'd lie to her, of course. But she knew he'd...sugar coat the truth for her. Rex...it was nice to know someone who would always mean what he said. Even Malos was like that, in a way. Although Malos...did seem like he had his secrets to keep.

They had been driving for a few hours. Nia had begun to get bored. Zeke and Pandy had spent the entire time teasing and flirting with each other, and it had gotten old long ago. "So," she said, jumping in during a lull in the conversation. "You and Morag seem like you know each other a bit?"

Zeke looked back in surprise, his one good eye widening. "Oh! Practically forgot you were back there."

"Zeke, you're driving," Pandy warned.

"Hah! Oh, right." He turned his eyes forward again, and swerved to avoid a rock outcropping. "Yeah, Morag and I..."

"Zeke crashed at her place for a while when his pops kicked him out," Pandy explained.

"I suppose that's one way to put it," Zeke muttered. "But yes. I haven't always...gotten along the best with my royal family, let's say. Might have gotten a little banished, back in the day." He stared off into the distance, looking a bit sad. "Was...well, I was pretty young when they first kicked me out. Wasn't sure where to go. Morag's parents offered to take me in, once they learned a wandering Prince was stealing food from the inns in Alba Cavanich."

"Hm. Awfully nice of them," Nia mused.

Zeke laughed. "I don't think it was _entirely _out of the kindness of their hearts. I think they might have been hoping that one day I'd be unbanished, and in the meantime Morag and I would fall for each other and they'd get a politically convenient marriage out of the deal. But, well, that was always a long shot, so I do appreciate them taking me in. Unfortunately for them, Morag and I...are definitely not each other's type." He chuckled. "Don't get me wrong, she's a good enough sort. But so _dour_. I kept trying to tell her, look on the bright side, cheer up a bit. Maybe think of something other than swords and battles. I mean swords are great and all, but life needs some spice!" He peered through the window, turning the wheel to the side. "I think we may be here."

They had been climbing an incline for some time now. Malos had led them to a large, rocky outcropping, atop a series of cliffs and sand dunes, overlooking another portion of the desert below. As Nia climbed out of the car, she noticed that the desert was not actually empty. A few hundred feet below them was what looked to be like a few empty, abandoned buildings, blackened with soot and disrepair, the ghostly remains of an abandoned town. A humongous, squat factory dominated the rest of the buildings. And as she squinted, closely, she could see the dim glow of fires flickering in the windows. It seemed the place was not entirely abandoned. She yelped as she was yanked back, glaring up at Malos, who had pulled her.

"Don't stand out against the skyline," he hissed. "We don't want to be spotted. I'd like to keep the element of surprise if we can."

"Spotted by who?" she snapped, placing her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes. She glared over at Rex. "Why don't you tell us what's going on? What is this place? How'd you know to come here?"

Rex kicked at the sand, then threw his hands up in the air. "Ahhhh, fine, not like we can keep the secret from you anyway. You know that Sylvie Senator we came here with? The one Malos went on a date with? Well, he must have really impressed her, because she came to us last night with information about where Tora was. She wanted us to keep it secret from Morag for...complicated political reasons, I guess." Rex raised an eyebrow at Nia. "You're not gonna believe who's running the place, though. It's Bana."

"Bana?" Nia said, eyes widening. "What, you mean that nopon you were working for when I first met you…? Wow, small world."

"I know, right?"

"If this...Bana...has hurt a hair on her Tora's head," Poppi growled, "Poppi will pop him like _rotten grape!"_

Malos had been busy clearing aside some small bush, hacking away at it with his sword. It fell away, parting, revealing a small, dark entrance into a tunnel into the side of the cliffs overlooking the town. "Well, she didn't lead us wrong," he mused.

Zeke was rooting around in the trunk of his vehicle, going through some of the equipment stored in the boot. "Before we go rushing in," he called, waving a pair of binoculars in the air, "Why don't we do some reconnaissance?"

Nia crossed her arms. "Wow. That is surprisingly good sense. I didn't expect it out of you."

"Let's say my Prince learned this lesson the hard way," Pandy said. "Multiple times. And needs constant reminding of it. Really you caught him on one of his good days."

They lay down on the edge of the cliff, low to the ground, casting their binoculars over the dead ghost town.

There was not much to be seen. Crumbling brick, shattered windows. Even the factory itself still looked, outwardly, to be in great disrepair, the only indication that it was actually operating a dim flicker barely visible through its windows. No guards, no sign of life could be spotted throughout the whole town besides that. Other than some fresh tire tracks, which they supposed were indicators of recent deliveries sent out. They were about to get up and stop looking, when suddenly Rex hissed, "Wait, look! The entrance to the town!"

Driving through the entrance to the town, kicking up dust and small rocks behind it, was a vehicle much like their own. Only this one was painted entirely black. As they watched it pulled up to the entrance of the factory, and a tall, lithe, grim-looking man stepped out of it. Malos focused his binoculars. He could see, from a distance, that he wore a uniform decorated with the same sort of regalia that Sylvie wore, black leather and silver skulls.

"Hard to tell from this distance, but I think that's the rank insignia of a lieutenant colonel," said Zeke. "Fairly high ranking. Wonder what he's doing out here."

"Look, there's Bana," Nia whispered. At the entrance to the factory, swinging open a rusted door, the gigantic nopon had appeared. For a few moments, it seemed as if he was shouting at the officer, who kept approaching despite Bana's increasing annoyance. Finally, with a disgusted shrug, Bana re-entered the darkness of the factory. The officer followed behind him, and the door closed.

"Well, we definitely know Bana actually is here now," Rex muttered, putting down his binoculars. "But I dunno what that Brionac officer was doing here."

"I think we've really learned all we can." Malos got to his feet, tossing the binoculars into the backseat of his vehicle. "I think it's time to head on in."

"Yes!" Poppi said enthusiastically. "Poppi agree!" She flicked her orange eyes on, lighting up the entrance to the mine that Malos had uncovered. "Don't worry, Tora. Here Poppi come!"

**30.**

The tunnel was long, clammy, dark, filled with the acrid scent of smoke from the factory, thick enough to send them into coughing fits. Poppi's shining eyes guided their way, swinging wildly back and forth in the tunnel as they trotted along, illuminating walls still fresh with the gouges of machinery tearing into the rock, shadows of old support beams dancing wildly across their vision.

It was long, longer than seemed possible, a winding, circuitous path forged by the miners as they had chased after ore deposits, only very slightly heading downward, down toward the town and the factory. Fortunately, if any of the local vicious wildlife had made this tunnel their home, it seemed the renewed smog from the factory had driven them out – while they came across the brittle bones of prey dragged into the tunnel, they never saw a sign of life.

Nia was walking behind Poppi as they continued downward, quiet, withdrawn. For some reason, as they drew closer, she found herself feeling more and more ill at ease. She thought for a while that perhaps it was the tunnel getting on her nerves. But as the feeling grew, became more and more consuming, she realized what it was.

Eyes widening, she reached out through the ether. There was no mistaking it. There were other Flesh Eaters nearby. And that likely meant only one thing: Torna.

She glanced around nervously, at the blades walking besides her. Flesh Eaters left a distinct signature in the ether, but it was extremely subtle unless you knew what you were looking for. Which she did, of course. It only became obvious that something was unusual when they began using their powers.

Her mind raced. If she warned them of what was ahead, the other blades might pick up on what to look for in the ether, and be able to detect her in the future. Well...she supposed it was really only Pandoria who might find out. Malos and Dromarch already knew, of course. Could Poppi pick up movements in the ether like a normal blade could….? She wasn't sure. Some blades were more talented at picking up differences in the signal than others. She had always been particularly good at it herself, and lots of times she didn't notice unless she knew specifically to look. Maybe…

She steeled herself. It didn't matter. She couldn't let them walk into a possible trap. "Guys," she said, and winced as her voice echoed in the cave around them. Everyone whipped their heads around to stare at her. "Ah...guys," she repeated, lowering her voice, "Um...Dromarch...said he smelled something. Something familiar. I think….Torna might be here."

She looked down at him, and even in the darkness she could see her blade's eyes widening. "That's correct," he said smoothly, not missing a beat. "I picked it up not long ago. Faint, but unmistakable."

"Even through all this smoke? That's one hell of a nose you've got on you, puss," Zeke mused.

Dromarch rolled his eyes. "_Please_ do not call me 'puss'."

Nia turned to him, crossing her arms. "You're acting like you know who Torna are."

Zeke shrugged. "Sure I do. Not like they're secret. I've even had a run-in with one of them before. Nasty little man with a bow. Trying to steal some core crystals I'd been hired to guard. He was one hell of a fighter, but Pandy and I ran him off."

Nia uncrossed her arms, impressed. It was a rare human indeed who could stand up to a member of Torna.

"Torna, huh?" said Rex, almost indistinguishable in the darkness. "What would they be doing here…? Could you smell who exactly it was…?"

"No," Nia replied. "But I don't think...I mean, Dromarch doesn't think it's Jin. Jin has a very, uh. Distinct scent."

Malos gave her a frank, skeptical look, then closed his eyes and lifted his head. He knew, of course. He was looking through the ether himself. Finally, he opened his eyes, looking at her as if impressed. "Huh. Well. This complicates things. For what it's worth, I don't feel Mythra out there, so I don't think it's her either."

"D'you think they laying an ambush for us or something?" Rex continued. Nia could hear the worry in his voice. She knew that, despite it all, Rex probably still blamed himself for Vandham's death on some level, blamed himself for being unprepared.

"I don't see how," Zeke mused. "Not like they could have known we were coming. Unless someone spied on us, in which case we're really walking into it, aren't we?" He gave a lighthearted chuckle, as if this didn't concern him.

"Could it be that maybe they have business with Bana? He does have his fingers in a lot of pies..." Rex mused on.

Poppi interrupted them, stamping her foot. "Poppi not care if she have to fight every member of Torna all at once. Poppi is getting her Tora back."

"Right," Malos said grimly. "Let's just try to get in, get Tora, and get out. Anyone gets in our way, well, we'll do what we have to do."

They continued onward, much more tense, down further into the tunnel. It winded on, and on. Rex was beginning to wonder whether Sylvie had lied to them, and there was no entrance into the factory from here at all, when they finally came across a portion of the tunnel where the rough rock surface merged into a brick wall. A large chunk of the wall had bricks much fresher-looking than the surrounding ones, outlined by some cement plastered on to keep them in place.

"Well, I guess she was true to her word," Rex murmured, as Poppi's eyelights landed upon it. "This sure looks like the patch job she was talking about. Right," He looked around, hands on his hips. "Let's think about how to do this carefully-"

Suddenly, with a crash, Poppi dashed forward and slammed her shoulder into the brick. They cracked and bent inward beneath the force of her blow, finally crumbling and falling away with a small rumble.

"_Or_ we could just do that," Rex said, rubbing the back of his head.

Gingerly, they stepped through the smashed hole in the brick wall. It led them out onto a high catwalk, a metal grating lined by rails high above the factory floor.

The factory itself was impressive. Mostly automated, gigantic robotic arms whirred back and forth above an assembly line, slowly piecing together metal frames with an unmistakable human shape. The fires of smelting ore glowed dimly in the distance, and there was the constant sound of metal hammering on metal faintly in the background, as if somewhere else in the factory raw ore was being shaped into the components of the frame. The heat was intense, radiating outward from gigantic generators lined across the factory floor. The interior was also immense, complex branches of different assembly lines merging together in a space nearly as big as the interior of the palace.

Malos whistled. Whoever had put this together definitely wasn't from Mor Ardain. This technology was decades ahead of what the Ardainians were capable of.

"Well, I was right about one thing," Rex said, peering out across the factory. "Bana really does like to skimp on security."

And he was right. The factory was almost eerily empty. Other than the whirring, mechanical movements of the robotic arms, and the endless streams of the conveyor belts of the assembly lines, there was no movement at all save for themselves. "I suppose it might have a purpose in this case," Nia replied. "You wanna keep a secret, you keep as few people who know it as possible."

"Yeah. Or he's just cheap," Rex laughed.

Poppi was standing by the edge of the railing, holding a hand to her face, scanning the factory floor intensely. "Where…." she muttered to herself. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Poppi...Poppi saw him!" she cried.

She immediately dashed across the catwalk, running towards a large, multi-story control tower that it connected to.

"Poppi, wait!" Rex called, but she ignored him. He sighed, and began running after her, with everyone else.

Poppi dashed to the control tower, flinging open the door so hard that it smashed to splinters as it slammed against the wall. Inside was a small, windowed room from which you could observe the entire factory floor. A Tirkin, startled, whipped its head around to squawk at her. Poppi almost absent-mindedly punched it unconscious as she tore towards the internal stairs, descending them in leaps and bounds, four, five, half a flight in a single leap.

Finally, she stood on the bottom floor of the control tower, in the small room through which she had glimpsed him.

There was Tora, chained to a table, looking miserable, a bowl of gruel before him, as a Tirkin prodded him with a spear. "Oi, it prisoner exercise time," it snapped at him in its horrible bird-speak. "Fat nopon ought to take opportunity to lose some weight."

"Tora is perfectly healthy size for nopon," he growled back at the Tirkin. "He have no energy for exercise! Stupid Tirkin feeding him awful gruel for days! Nopon need tasty sausages to...to..." Finally, he looked over toward the base of the stairs, where Poppi stood, staring at him. His eyes widened, and he rubbed them, as if not believing what he was seeing. "...Poppi…?"

"TORA!" Poppi cried, her voice thick with emotion. She rushed forward, arms extended. The Tirkin guarding Tora turned around to face her, and didn't even have time to get out a squawk before it was summarily shoved aside, slamming into a wall, slumping down unconscious.

Poppi swept up Tora in her arms, hugging him, laughing as she spun around.

"Poppi! Tora beginning to worry he never see you again! Tora so glad you came!" her masterpon yelled, muffled, as she squeezed him in close. Poppi had never felt so happy, so relieved before. It was like a humongous weight was lifted immediately from her shoulders the second she saw Tora.

Rex and the others finally caught up with her, making their way down the stairs, and that was how they found her, laughing with delight, hugging her masterpon close, spinning around.

"Tora! My Tora! Poppi found you! Poppi here to protect! She never let you get taken away from her, never again!"

**31.**

It was quick work to snap the chain binding Tora to the table. He bounced happily, rotating his small, stubby foot, stretching out, sighing with relief. "Chain beginning to chafe," he muttered. He glanced around, his clever black eyes darting between everyone. "I...everyone come to find Tora…?" he asked.

"Of course we did." Rex crossed his arms, grinning at him. "What, did you think we were just gonna give up on you?"

Tora was quiet for a moment, then his lip quivered, and he hid his face in his hands. "Tora...very grateful. So grateful...he knock ten percent off your remaining debt to him," he said, voice trembling.

"Wh...are you still keeping track of that?" Nia snapped.

"And Tora very grateful to you as well!" He bounced happily as he looked up at Zeke and Pandy. "Tora sorry, but not sure he remember your names….?"

"Oh, really!" Zeke's eye's gleamed. "Well, littlepon, my name is Z-" 

"ZEKE, it's Zeke, his name is Zeke," Nia interupted. Her eyes darted around nervously. "Well, now that we've got you, let's get out of here as quick as possible."

However, Tora had pulled up a chair and quickly slid some fine tools out of his jean overalls, and was using them to deftly remove the bottom panel of Poppi's foot. "That some nasty rattling. Rocket must have really done a number," he murmured. Rex's eyes widened as his hands worked in a blur, quickly reassembling the hundreds of tiny pieces that spilled out of Poppi's foot.

"Yes. Rockets." Poppi narrowed her eyes at Rex.

"Can't you do this later…?" Nia's ears flattened against her head, and her hands kneaded Dromarch's fur in worry. "Wouldn't it be better to just get out of here….?"

"This only take a moment," Tora replied, a screwdriver in his teeth as he applied a few drops of oil to the gear he was working on. "And...ah...Tora..." he breathed in deeply. "Tora understand if...you not want to look...but he find out that his dadapon somewhere in the factory."

"Your dadapon?" Rex crossed his arms. "I thought you said he was…."

"Dead," Tora finished, mopping sweat off his brow as he screwed the bottom plate of Poppi's foot back on. "Yes. Tora...thought he was. But MuiMui let slip that he actually here too, captured by Bana." He leaned back, and Poppi wiggled her foot, the rattle completely gone. She beamed at him as he continued. "Tora...cannot leave without looking for his dadapon. At least looking."

Glancing at Nia, Rex turned back to Tora. "I think you should know...Nia says she thinks that Torna might be somewhere in here."

"Torna…?" Tora shivered. "Nasty people who kill Vandham…? But...Tora must still at least look."

Rex looked around, gauging everyone's reaction. Malos shrugged as his driver caught his eye. "Hey. I'm up for it. But I want more knocked off my debt."

"Yes! Additional ten percent for everyone!" Tora cried.

"I'm all up for helping the little guy look for his dad." Zeke crossed his arms, glancing around. "But if we're going to do it, we should probably move soon. I imagine there must be some sort of patrol that will be here to check on things at some point."

"What about you, Nia?" Rex asked, quietly. "Are you okay with it…?"

Nia, if she was being honest with herself, wasn't. Even if Jin and Mythra weren't the ones out there...the thought of running into other members of Torna filled her with dread. Every time they ran into Torna...Rex had nearly died, Vandham had died...and despite herself, despite the fact that she was...happier, with her new friends, the thought of facing the accusing stares of those she had abandoned sent her heart racing. But she swallowed her fear, and grinned light-heartedly. "I...yeah, sure. But I want twenty percent knocked off _my _debt."

Tora clapped his hands together and smiled, bearing his tiny fangs. "Tora so grateful. He truly lucky to have friends like you." He pointed towards the back of the control tower, where there was a reinforced metal door. "They keep Tora in that cell most of the time. Inside cell is large access panel to ventilation shaft. Recommend traveling in there to avoid walking on factory floor. Tora not sure where ventilation shaft lead, but sometimes hear voices traveling along it. Maybe go somewhere important."

They quickly set to work. First, Malos climbed back to the top of the control tower to fetch the Tirkin Poppi had knocked out on the top floor, while Rex and Nia dragged the one on the ground floor into the cell. Both Tirkin were, fortunately, still completely unconscious. Malos tossed the both of them onto the bed, stuffed pillowcases into their mouths, and then wrapped them tightly in a sheet, knotting them together into one giant lump. He then tossed a blanket over them, and observed his handiwork. From the door, it looked plausibly enough like Tora was sleeping in the bed, covered by the blankets. "That might keep them off our tracks for a while," he smiled.

While this was happening, Tora stood on Zeke's shoulders at the back of the cell, quickly fiddling with the screws holding the access panel to the ventilation shaft in place. With one final twist, it fell down, Zeke catching it with a free hand before it could clatter to the floor.

The shaft itself was large, large enough for Tora to stand up in, although Malos and Zeke were going to have a hard time crawling along in it, and wide enough for two people to crawl side by side. Zeke pushed Tora inside, and then deftly lifted Pandoria in after him, then pulled himself up. Poppi gleefully clicked her feet together and gave herself a small boost with her jets, leaping deftly up into the entrance. Malos gave Nia and Rex a boost, and lifted up himself. Dromarch, the last, paced back and forth on the ground, crouched, wriggled, and then leapt with fluid grace into the tunnel.

They crawled along as quietly as possible, slowly making their way forward. It was, fortunately, not completely dark: the shaft had regular openings into the factory floor, and light shone through to guide their path.

"Nia, are you sure you're okay with this?" Rex asked quietly, after they had been crawling along for a while.

Nia glanced to her side, where Rex crawled next to her. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's no big deal. Don't worry about me." With a start, she realized she was trembling. Rex must have felt her shaking as she was pressed up next to him in the tunnel. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and then shot him a fanged grin. "Seriously, I'm alright, I don't need to be babied or anything."

Rex was quiet, not responding. He merely turned his eyes forward, a small frown on his face.

Eventually the tunnel opened up into a much larger room, with room for them to stand. Multiple, smaller tunnels snaked out of it. Two gigantic, slowly rotating fans opened up onto the factory floor, their shadows flashing them in and out of darkness.

As soon as they entered the room, they could hear voices echoing throughout it. Heading towards the source, they noticed that one of the fans lay directly over what looked like a well-lit equipment room, full of boxes of blinking lights and bristling with knobs, levers and buttons. Pacing around it irritably was Bana. And standing calmly in the center, his arms crossed, was the Brionac officer they had seen entering the factory earlier. Malos put a finger to his lips and they all held their breath, listening to the conversation. 

"...Bana tell you you not have to come," snapped the large nopon, as he bounced back and forth in annoyance. "You Bana's _customers, _not Bana's boss. You have no right..."

"You operate this factory at our mercy and tolerance, Bana," the Brionac officer interrupted. His voice was cold, dry, like silk drawn across a bare sword. "A word, and you'd be kicked out of Mor Ardain. Or hanged. We do a lot of hangings these days."

Bana bristled. "Like to see you try," he snapped. "Don't forget Mor Ardain not the only country in the world. Many like to buy artificial blades. You threaten me, maybe I just take my business to Uraya."

"There won't _be _an Uraya, soon enough. It will be an Ardainian province soon." The officer watched Bana like a snake ready to strike. "I don't like being here any more than you like me being here. But do you realize what your little stunt at the palace did?"

"It not my stunt. I tell MuiMui to capture Tora and artificial blade, not blow up dinner party doing so. MuiMui an idiot!"

"Your man was able to walk into the Palace because of holes in security that we spent months setting up," the Brionac officer hissed. "All that effort, wasted. We were waiting for an opportune time to strike. We've had to push our plans up to tonight, before they re-establish security. We may never get another chance."

"Oh, and what plans are those…?" Bana asked, smugly. When the Ardainian officer replied with nothing but cold silence, the nopon laughed. "Oh, no need to be coy. Bana already know what you up to. Bana have his own spies, you see. Better ones than you can afford. Enough money buy you any information."

"You don't know what you're talking about." The officer glared at him, but looked suddenly uncertain. "Only a few people know about this at all."

"You going to kill Emperor," Bana replied sardonically.

In the tunnel above, Nia clasped a hand to Rex's mouth to prevent him from speaking as his eyes widened in shock and his mouth opened.

"Bana has known for months now," the nopon continued. "You see what a good business partner Bana is? Knows to keep discretion. And then you insult him by demanding on-site management."

The Brionac officer was quiet. When he spoke, his voice was deadly, furious. "I'm here," he hissed, "To make absolutely certain that nothing goes amiss during the plan tonight. That nothing that you do interferes with the execution. Like you _already have_ by exposing the security gaps. By tomorrow morning, it won't matter anymore. I'll leave, and Architect willing, we won't ever have to see each other again."

Bana muttered to himself. "Bah!" he said, finally. "Just do not go touching any equipment!" He turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Inside, the Brionac officer sighed, then pulled out a chair at a nearby table and began disassembling a small handgun.

Rex backed away from the fan, further into the tunnel, his eyes still wide. "They're going to kill Niall…?" he whispered frantically.

"It certainly seems like they're going to try," Zeke replied, his voice hushed. "He does have Morag at his side. But..."

"We….we need to get out of here, we need to get back and warn them-" Rex began.

Tora, however, too intent on finding his dadapon, had wandered away during the end of the conversation, going down a tunnel where he thought he had heard a familiar murmuring. And now, he came bounding back, quivering with excitement, his eyes gleaming. "Friends come quick!" he said, barely keeping his voice under control. "Tora find him! Tora find his dadapon!"

**32.**

Tatazo sighed, placing a small paw against the glass of his prison, looking down upon the vast, sprawling industrial complex that he had helped create.

It was a luxurious prison, to be sure. After the initial capture with Bana, once the machines he had built had begun to turn a profit, Bana had become much more willing to treat Tatazo well, even when Tatazo would talk back to him and curse him. And...well...Bana was no fool. He knew that no matter how much Tatazo might hate him, some material comfort would make him more pliable, more willing to work, than if he had kept him in a sterile prison. Never had he ever given Tatazo anything close to the possibility of escape, though. No, Tatazo was Bana's golden goose, and the legendary nopon pirate wasn't letting him get away.

And though Tatazo hated to admit it...he had some pride in what he had built here. He had pride in everything he built. This factory was a monument to efficiency and engineering. Tatazo hadn't _wanted _to help Bana. But it was difficult for him to turn his brain off. He went crazy without things to build and improve. So with lack of anything else to do, he had helped build Bana his war machine factory.

He did what he could to slow things down and throw wrenches in Bana's plans. He had a secret series of toggles and cleverly hidden levers, secret combinations of buttons, that would cause various small disasters in the factory, or slow down production by as much as fifty percent. Sometimes he would flick these, and Bana or MuiMui would tell him to fix things, and he'd get a few wonderful hours to himself before he simply went and flicked the switches and set things right again.

Still, it rankled him to see the artificial blades turned into war machines. And it rankled him further still to be working for those who had murdered his father and stolen his life's work. At least Tora had gotten away. At least...he could hope that he had.

His ears perked up at the sound of scuffling in one of the nearby air vents. He walked over to it, squinting up at it. Unlike air vents in other rooms, which were merely screwed in, Bana had ensured that Tatazo would never escape by welding the air vents shut.

"Someone...up there…?" Tatazo called, standing on his tiptoes, trying to peer into the darkness. He could have sworn he had heard voices….

Suddenly, a small, metallic fist punched through the bars of the air vent, tearing the metal in two. Tatazo jumped back in shock as the robotic arm reached over to one of the corners of the vent, found purchase, and with a shuddering screech of tortured metal, ripped it from the wall. Down from the air vent leapt a small artificial blade, but not like any model he had seen before, with a blue hair mold and a white beret, wearing a small red cape. She looked at him with glowing orange eyes and smiled.

"What this...who..." Tatazo gasped in shock. But before he could continue, another, more familiar form dropped down from the air vent, and his eyes widened in awe.

"DADAPON!" Tora cried, rushing forward to embrace his father.

"Tora…?" Tatazo said wonderingly. "It...really you?"

"Dadapon!" Tora cried again as he slammed into Tatazo, wrapping his wings around him. "Tora thought you were dead for so long! Tora was certain of it! Tora so sorry for not looking for you earlier!"

"My littlepon," Tatazo sniffled, returning the embrace. "My littlepon has grown so big! It so good to see Tora!"

"Aww," Pandoria said, watching the two nopon spin around, hugging each other. "That's so sweet." She peered up at Zeke. "Zeke...are...are you crying?" she asked, bemused.

Zeke closed his one good eye, steeling himself with a deep breath. "Absolutely not," he replied, his voice strained. "Definitely not. No."

"Well, that's definitely Tora's da', alright," Nia said, placing her hands on her hips. "Looks just like him. Except with a mustache and all."

Tatazo broke off his embrace with Tora to stare at the strangers filling his room. "Tora, you know these people…?"

"Ah, yes. This is Zeke, Pandy, Nia, Dromarch, Rex and Malos," Tora replied, beaming. "They Tora's sidekicks. He means, friends. He means..._debtors."_

"Hey," Rex muttered.

Tatazo bounced up and down with glee. "My little Tora, already having people in debt to him. Tatazo is so proud! You grown up so much! Tatazo...sad he not there to see it! And...this..." he pointed to Poppi.

Poppi posed proudly, puffing out her chest. "My name Poppi! Tora built me with own two hands."

"You...finish artificial blade prototype all on your own," Tatazo said wonderingly. He wiped a tear from his eyes with a wing, blinking rapidly. "Tatazo...so, so proud of his littlepon."

"Right, well, I hate to interrupt the happy family reunion," Nia said, glancing around, "But we should probably get going as soon as possible-"

"MuiMui _thought_ he find you here."

The group spun around to face the doorway into the room. MuiMui stood there, arms crossed, Lila standing at his side, a crowd of Tirkin behind him, a smug sneer on his face. "You think you so clever to escape, Tora. MuiMui make sure you chained down to your bed from now on. But..." MuiMui blinked suddenly, looking around. "Who...who all these people…?"

Rex drew his claymore, as everyone else drew their weapons as well. "You _aren't _taking Tora back. _Or _his dadapon."

MuiMui's eyes widened. "S-security breach," he said. "SECURITY BREACH!" He moved aside as Tirkin began filing into the room, squawking, brandishing an odd assortment of spears and guns. "Kill them! Kill them, kill them! Save Tora, Tatazo and the artificial blade! Kill rest! Kill!" He glared up at Lila, the sad artificial blade staring back at him with an impassive gaze. "What you waiting for, Lila? Get in there and _kill!"_

"Roger, masterpon," Lila said, sullenly. She raised her arms, which unfolded into large hydraulic presses.

The Tirkin crowded the room so rapidly, so densely that it was nearly impossible to move. "Damn it," cried Malos, as MuiMui began bouncing away. He swung his sword in a broad arc, sending Tirkin flying and squawking in a blast of black flame. "He's getting away! We have to stop him before he warns someone!"

"Give Tora a boost," Tora snarled eagerly. The Dark Aegis glanced down at him, eyebrows raised. "Tora has a grudge to settle with MuiMui."

Malos shrugged, swinging his sword again, the Tirkin crowding in around him backing off warily. "Sounds good to me." He scooped up Tora, wound back, and chucked the nopon as hard as he could at MuiMui.

Tora soared through the air, flying over the heads of the chaotic crowd of Tirkin. Lila, standing by the door, moved to intercept him. But before she could, Poppi bullrushed through the crowd, sending Tirkin scattering like bowling pins, blocking Lila's hand before she could catch Tora.

"_You," _Poppi said, her orange eyes beaming bright as Lila looked down at her, frowning, "Are never touching my Tora again."

MuiMui yelped, only a few feet from the door, as Tora slammed into him, tackling him into the ground. "Tora get _off,"_ he snarled, as they rolled and bounced around the floor. "Off!" Finally he picked himself up, dusting off his lab coat. "Fine! You think MuiMui defenseless? MuiMui been spy for long time! He remember when you just tiny toddlerpon! MuiMui will recapture you himself if he has to-"

Tora grinned a savage grin at him, pulling a large wrench out of his overalls, smacking it menacingly into his palm. "Oh, Tora love to see you try," he grinned.

MuiMui gave a shrill scream as Tora began beating him mercilessly with the wrench.

The battle was chaos, madness. There were at least two dozen Tirkin, all of them clawing their way over each other to get at their targets. As Tora laid into MuiMui outside the door, Zeke and Pandy fought back to back, Zeke's gigantic sword keeping the Tirkin a good distance from them, Pandy shooting lightning into the crowd.

Dromarch slipped into the middle of the crowd, with the deadly grace of a hunter. Every once in a while, his white tail or his claws would flash above the heads of the Tirkin, and one would let out a final squawk. Even Tatazo was fighting back, menacing the Tirkin who closed in around him with a screwdriver.

Nia, Rex and Malos fought next to each other. The swings of Rex's claymore and Malos' sword would send the Tirkin scattering back in waves – when they tried surging in between swings, Nia would dart forward from between them, laying into them with her twin rings. If the Tirkin closed in too much, Rex and Malos wouldn't be able to swing their swords as effectively. Nia's flashing blades kept them from surging forward too much between swings.

Poppi, in the meantime, faced down Lila. She grabbed her shield from her back, quickly bringing it up to defend herself as Lila began raining powerful blows down upon her with her hydraulic presses. She winced as the shield shuddered and vibrated from the hammering fists.

"Surrender," Lila said, mechanically hammering away, never relenting. "It best if you just surrender to MuiMui and Bana. Like Lila did. MuiMui and Bana always get their way, in the end. They always win."

Poppi's eyes widened in shock as her shield began cracking beneath the force of the blows. With one final blow, it shattered in her hands, sending tortured, shattered shrapnel flying. Poppi was sent flying back by the force of the blow, slamming into a wall hard enough to crack it. She looked up in a daze as Lila descended upon her, black dress billowing around her, hydraulic fists poised to deliver another blow.

"Just surrender," Lila repeated. "Surrender with Tora. At least if you surrender with him..." She paused, and her eyes flicked to Tatazo. "At least if you surrender with him, you get to be around your masterpon. No matter what they do to you, you always have that."

While Lila was looking away, Poppi fired up her rocket boots, slamming into Lila, wrapping her arms around her torso. Flying above the crowd of Tirkin, she smashed her through the glass pane separating the room from the factory floor. She slammed her into the ground with explosive force, punching a crater into the cement.

"Poppi will never surrender!" she cried, raining blows down upon Lila. She glanced up, across the factory floor, where not very far away, Tora was beating a whimpering MuiMui with a large wrench. "Her Tora means everything to her. If Bana and MuiMui take her...they change Poppi so that she not even listen to her masterpon anymore. Just like they did with you. That what happen, isn't it?" She paused in her assault, looking down at the artificial blade pinned beneath her. "They change you."

"I..." Lila gave her a pained look, then gasped as a jolt of electricity shot through her. "Emotional response overridden. Resolving control errors." With a shout, she punched Poppi, sending her flying, landing in a heap next to Tora.

"Poppi!" Tora cried, letting up on his beating of MuiMui to rush to her side. He glanced up in worry as Lila strode towards them, unceasing, merciless.

"Tora," Poppi said, struggling to her feet. She raised her fists, facing Lila. "Let Poppi...protect you."

"Poppi not here just to protect," Tora cried, stepping in front of her. "Tora here to help Poppi too!" He bared his fangs at Lila. "You stay away from my Poppi!"

"Masterpon...being foolish," Poppi said, shaking her head ruefully. "Let Poppi be the one to protect."

"Hush, Poppi," Tora replied, as he stood defiantly before Lila. "Is what a masterpon does."

Lila paused, looking down at the tiny nopon before her, who she could easily crush like a grape. Across the factory floor, MuiMui propped himself up, spitting out a tooth. "What Lila waiting for!" he snapped. "Squash him! MuiMui not care about capture anymore. MuiMui want him _dead!_"

Lila's hand jerked forward, but then she shuddered, electricity coursing through her. "Internal...control...errors…." she muttered.

"What you _waiting _for, you stupid machine!" MuiMui cried, staggering to his feet. He bounced irritably, shivering with rage. "I your masterpon! And you _obey!_"

Suddenly, there was a large explosion of electricity and dark flame from the room they had crashed through. Lila's head whipped around to see the few remaining Tirkin running, feathers singed and burnt, from the room. The others she had been fighting came running from the room.

Along with...Tatazo. Tatazo, who looked at her with sad, haunted eyes.

"N-no," Lila said, smiling for the first time in ages. "No. Lila's masterpon is Professor Tatazo." And she raised her head to the ceiling and outstretched her arms. Electricity coursed through her, shooting off her in arcs, crawling along the ground. She shuddered as the current fried her circuits, singing her dress, until finally she collapsed in a smoking heap.

"What!" MuiMui cried, raising his wings in disbelief. "Stupid machine fried herself! Fine," he snarled. He reached into one of his lab coat pockets, pulling out a small handgun, leveling it at Tora. "MuiMui kill you himself!"

With a yell, Poppi dashed forward, slapping the gun out of MuiMui's hand. It slid across the factory floor, stopping at Tora's feet. Tora looked at it curiously, then picked it up, pointing it at MuiMui. "Oh, tables turned now, eh?" he smiled. MuiMui gasped, collapsing to his feet, scrambling backwards.

Meanwhile, Rex and the rest had arrived, running up to the scene after finishing off the Tirkin. "Tora, wait!" Rex cried. "Don't shoot him! It's not going to make you feel any better."

Tora paused, tilting his head to the side curiously. "What Rex-Rex talking about? Tora think it probably make him feel pretty good."

"No!" Rex shouted in frustration. "You don't need to kill him! Poppi, tell him!"

Poppi shrugged. "Poppi pretty okay with it!" she said happily.

"What-no! Damn it," Rex said, looking around him. "This….doesn't feel right," he said, after Malos shrugged down at him. "Executing someone defenseless like this..."

"Rex," Tatazo said quietly, "MuiMui...he spy on my family for years. Gain our trust. Betray us. Steal our friends. Reprogram poor Lila," he said, looking sadly at the smoking heap that was Lila's prone form. "And...kill my dadapon. Some people just not deserve second chance."

"W-wait!" MuiMui gasped, shaking. "MuiMui...not kill your grampypon, Tora. He still alive."

"MuiMui is just trying to save his worthless skin," Tora snapped, jabbing the gun toward him.

"No! It true!" MuiMui cried. "MuiMui...not know much. But he seen your grampypon! He swears it!"

"Then where _is _he?" Tora cocked the gun menacingly. "Why should Tora believe you!"

"MuiMui not know! But he swears he saw him leaving the factory one day!" MuiMui collapsed, his face to the ground, sniveling. "Please not kill MuiMui! Please! MuiMui...have family! Has wife and kiddypons! Please! MuiMui have loving mommypon and dadapon and sisterpon who miss him if he gone! MuiMui sorry for everything! Please just spare MuiMui's life!"

Tora stared at MuiMui, narrowing his eyes. Finally, he lowered the gun. "MuiMui pathetic," he sighed. "Tora not kill you." He turned around, shaking his head. "Tie him up so he not go warn Bana. Tora not care."

**33.**

As Pandoria and Zeke led the weeping, grateful MuiMui away to find a place to lock him up, Rex approached Tora and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It was the right choice, Tora," he said, quietly.

"No, shooting him probably be right choice too," Tora mused. "Had two good choices. But seeing how pathetic MuiMui was...Tora not even angry at him anymore. Just embarrassed for him."

Meanwhile, Poppi approached Lila. She gasped as Lila's eyes fluttered open. "Lila...alive?" she said.

"What!" Tatazo cried, rushing over to her side. "Tatazo thought for sure she fry her neural circuitry with that!"

Lila twitched and jerked as another bolt of electricity ran through her. "Lila...alive," she coughed weakly. "But not...for long. This body….falling apart." She smiled up at Tatazo. "Lila...glad she got to see...her masterpon...without the voices in her head...one last time..."

"Lila, don't..." Tatazo began, but was interrupted by another jolt of electricity running through the artificial blade.

Now, Lila turned her gaze to Poppi, smiling up at her. "Lila...also glad...she got to meet her sister...if only…for a little while."

Poppi knelt down, holding Lila in her arms. "Poppi...glad she got to meet you, too," she said, quietly. She glanced as Tora arrived at her side, staring sadly down at the broken robot. "She glad...she got to meet other creation of Tora."

Lila placed a hand on Poppi's chest, smiling. "Lila...can tell...you have...great power...in here."

"In my heart?" Poppi asked.

Lila frowned. "No...in your...ether engine."

Tatazo crossed his arms, glancing over at Poppi. "It true," he replied. "I gave Tora special ether engine designed by dadapon SooSoo himself. SooSoo genius of geniuses. I never able to match his design. Poppi has something very special."

"I want...you to use...Lila's ether engine as stabilizing core," Lila continued weakly. "By using...Lila's ether engine...Poppi will be able to harness even more of her power."

Poppi glanced over at Tora questioningly. "I...it true," Tora replied. "Tora _has _been working on upgrades for you. High-quality ether engine designed by dadapon will help provide power to auxiliary systems, allowing for uninterrupted throughput from special ether engine to Poppi's primary functions..."

"But..." Poppi turned back to Lila. "Lila...will..."

Lila smiled grimly. "Lila...is already gone. Let me….live on...with you…."

And then, her eyes dimmed, and her head slumped forward to her chest, and her arm fell weakly to the floor. Poppi sniffled, reaching out with a hand to close her eyes. "Goodbye...sister," she said, with a small sob.

Tatazo bounced irritably. "What you crying for? She artificial blade." He reached out, and after quickly fiddling with Lila's head, slowly removed a chip board lined with glowing blue crystals. "As long as her neural circuitry okay, she not dead. I just build her new body."

Poppi paused. "Wait. That true?"

Tatazo crossed his arms. "Of course it is. I helped build you. I know what I talking about. It take a few months, but not nearly as long as initial design process."

"Oh." Poppi got to her feet cheerfully, placing her hands on her hips. "Wow, being robot pretty awesome."

Meanwhile, Tora popped open a maintenance hatch on Lila's stomach. After a few moments, he extracted a small, spherical device, pulsing with glowing blue energy. "Ether engine thankfully undamaged!" He held it aloft cheerfully. "Well, not surprising. They very robust."

He looked around, at Nia, Rex, Malos and Dromarch gathered around him. Zeke and Pandy were approaching too, returning from locking MuiMui in a janitor's closet. "Friends! Are you ready to witness glorious completion of Poppi's upgrade process?"

"Are you ready to witness my butt walking out on you if you don't hurry it up?" Nia snapped.

"Oh, this very special for you, Nia!" Tora said. "You not there for Poppi's original completion. You too, Zeke, Pandy."

Nia crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. "Oh yeah. I'm riveted. So exciting, watching you screw a piece into place."

"Oh, much better than that!" Tora turned to Poppi, holding up the ether engine. "What about you, Poppi? Are you ready?"

Poppi posed dramatically, hands on her hips. "Poppi excited to become even more combat-capable!" She beat a fist against her chest, popping open a hatch, revealing an astounding complexity of gears and wires. "Let's do it, Tora!"

"Alright, let's see here," Tora said, whipping out a screwdriver. He reached in and carefully placed the glowing ether engine into Poppi's chest, quickly hooking up cables and securing it in place. "And...there we go," he muttered, closing the hatch. "Upgrade process...complete!"

"Oh, wow," Nia said sarcastically. "That was stunning-what the?!"

Suddenly, Poppi began glowing with a pulsing, intense inner light, pouring out of her eyes, out of the seams in her joints, radiating heat outward. It pulsed, throbbing, growing more and more intense. Everyone shielded their eyes as finally the light burst outward, with a wave of heat and force that blew through their hair. The light slowly dimmed, and…

"Oh, wow, I wasn't expecting that," Rex whistled.

Where Poppi had stood, there was a...new Poppi. She was taller, and seemed more human, older. Where she had formerly a mostly metal, mechanical body, now much of her seemed...smooth, curvaceous. She wore a dress much like the one Lila had worn, though the skirt was cut much shorter, revealing leg joints hidden beneath a flesh-colored, seamed armor. Her hair, still plastic molded in the shape of hair, now had a much larger pair of twin tails, jutting from the side of her head, rather than hidden behind it. Tied around these, long, flowing red ribbons extended nearly all the way to the ground. And crossing her face was now a permanent, etched X, much like Vandham's scars, through which orange light could be seen glowing dimly. Slowly, she opened her eyes, which were still the same, glowing orange, and gave them all a familiar smile. "Wait...where is Poppi? Who are all of you? Ha ha, Poppi just kidding. I still the same Poppi."

"Upgrade process fantastic success!" Tora crowed, bouncing up and down happily. "This Poppi Mark Two! Also known as Poppi QT!"

Tatazo's jaw dropped open in awe. Finally, he wiped a tear away from his eye. "Truly, my Tora has surpassed even his dadapon," he said quietly. "I...more proud than I ever thought possible."

Tora turned towards the stunned party, shivering excitedly. "So? What do friends think?"

"Uh," Nia said, the first to break the silence. "Boy, you sure did give her...much larger…." she raised her hands to her chest and made a squeezing motion.

Tora turned his head to the side curiously. "If Nia has a better suggestion for place to put excess jet fuel storage pods, Tora would like to hear it."

Poppi looked down at her chest, and poked at these new protrusions. "Poppi likes them," she shrugged. "What humans use these for, anyway?"

"I'll...uh...tell you later," Nia muttered.

Then she sputtered in shock as Poppi tilted her head and brazenly blurted out "They some kind of erogenous zone, right?" Poppi shrugged again. "Well, mine full of jet fuel. Poppi thinks this is better."

Dromarch approached Poppi, sniffing tentatively. "Well," he said, sitting back and licking one of his paws, "She certainly still smells like Poppi."

"What Poppi smell like?" Poppi asked.

"Oil and burnt plastic," Dromarch replied dryly.

Zeke slowly looked Poppi up and down, and shot Tora a wink and a thumbs up. "Good taste, furrypon."

"Her fashion sense could be a bit better," Pandoria mused. "Like, why the dress? Why not some shorts, like these?" She pointed towards her own legs.

"You think _everyone _would look better in tight short shorts, Pandy," Zeke laughed.

"Everyone _would_," Pandy shot back.

Malos was scratching his chin, circling Poppi. "Sure, she's cute," he said. "But what can she do?"

"Poppi has many enhanced combat capabilities," Poppi replied, eyeing Malos as he circled her. "Increased strength, endurance, dancing ability." She cocked her head to the side, smiling smugly, as she raised her arms, and with a mechanical whirr they unfolded into hydraulic fists, much like the ones Lila had, though sleeker and newer-looking. "Poppi bets she can kick _your _ass."

Malos paused in shock, then laughed. "Alright. I like this new Poppi." He looked back. "What do you think, Rex?"

Rex had his arms crossed dubiously. He approached Poppi, looking up at her. She stood a few inches above him now. "It's….still the same Poppi in there?" he asked, squinting.

"Of course, Rex," Poppi replied, giving him a gentle smile. "Personality matrix has remained the same."

Rex uncrossed his arms, smiling. "Well then, nothing's changed, right?"

"Yeah, except now there's another person taller than you," Nia deadpanned.

"She's taller than you too!" Rex snapped. He blushed furiously as Nia laughed at him, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Whatever."

"Oh, that remind Tora. What happen to your shield?" Tora asked, peering up at Poppi as she stared appreciatively at her new build-in hydraulic fists. "Tora design you with new weaponry so that both can have access to weapon at same time in battle."

Poppi hung her head in shame. "Poppi is sorry. It destroyed in last battle."

Tora scratched the top of his head. "No need for Poppi to be sorry. If it break, it because Tora did not build it good enough. But now he have no weapon."

"Why not use these?" Tatazo asked, holding up the hydraulic presses from Lila's body. "Tatazo originally design them for nopon use on wings, after all. Only minor changes made to fit them to Lila's arms."

"Hmmm..." Tora said, inspecting the presses. "Yes...yes! Tora thinks he likes this idea. Can already think of many improvements to make to design. Will be fun to fiddle around with and improve!" He grabbed the presses, sliding them onto his wings. "Is all settled then!"

**34.**

"Alright, if we're all done gawking at the sexy new robot," Nia said, "I think we should get out of here as soon as possible."

"That's right." Rex glanced nervously around the factory floor. It was a tangle of machinery and catwalks, with no clear exit visible. "We still have to get back and warn Niall as soon as possible."

"You follow me," Tatazo said, tucking Lila's personality core into one of the pockets of his large duster. "Tatazo help build this place. He trapped in room for long time now, but he knows exits. He thinks. Been a while."

Tatazo led them on a winding path throughout the factory. They passed by various stages of the assembly line, witnessing the artificial blades being built from the ground up from simple metal frames welded together, all the way to large, hulking mechanical brutes, fashioned to look like giant , musclebound, black trenchcoat-wearing Ardainian soldiers, their faces covered by a black gas mask. They passed by heaps of scrap metal and piles of ore, shipped in along secretive trade routes from Bana's connections in Mor Ardain.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, they came into a large, cement-lined room, the floor covered in scorch marks and small craters. "This testing grounds for blade designs," Tatazo said, eyeing the battle-scarred walls. "We almost to the exit now. We almost free-"

"Ah, yes, 'almost' is operative word there," came a familiar voice.

The party spun around. Approaching them from behind was Bana, his jewels glittering in the thrumming light of the generators, glaring at them.

"Oh no," whispered Tora.

Bana eyed Rex up and down. "Rex. Did not know you were here. So ungrateful of you. First you abandon trade guild, and now you try to steal my property."

"Your property?" Rex asked, narrowing his eyes.

"That's right." Bana pointed a wing at Tatazo, then Tora and Poppi. "All those three my property. You beat up my guards and cause damage to my factory. But because Bana is nice nopon, full of charity, he let you go. Just give his property back to him. Actually..." Bana glanced over at Malos, smiling in surprise. "You also took Bana's property before, when you took Aegis. Bana will be taking him too. Make a pretty penny off of that one."

"Those are all _people, _not property!" Rex yelled, drawing his claymore.

Bana shrugged. "Bana not get what you mean. People and property not mutually exclusive concepts."

"Friends, we should run," Tora whispered, tugging insistently at Rex's side.

Malos raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the two nopon. Tora and Tatazo were trembling, eyeing Bana with fear. "What's the big deal? He's outnumbered. He's not going to be able to take you."

"This is legendary Bana," Tora replied. "Famous as most ruthless, clever nopon! Pirate terror of Cloud Sea! He not joke to be trifled with!"

"What? Pirate?" Rex turned back to Bana, a quizzical look on his face. "Bana, I never knew you were a pirate."

"Rex stupid or something? How you think Bana got so rich? You think it happen from Bana playing nice and fair? You think he become leader of most powerful Trade Guild just by being good businessman alone? No! Bana _stole a bunch of stuff!_ Of course Bana a pirate!" Bana reached behind him with his wings, pulling out two large, unwieldy shotguns. "And Bana not letting you leave here!"

"We must run! Run!" Tora cried.

"Look, okay, maybe he's a pirate and all, but I'm the Aegis," Malos said, bemused. He summoned his blade to his hand. "I'm pretty sure we can take him."

"Yes yes," Tora said, rolling his eyes. "Sure. You big scary Aegis. But this is _Bana."_

"Oh come on, how tough could he be," Nia snapped. She was sick of being stuck in this factory. They had pushed their time here well beyond the limit. They were playing with fire. Torna could pop up from around the corner any moment. She began walking forward. "Come on, let's just go-"

Bana leveled a shotgun at her and fired.

Dromarch roared, projecting an ether barrier, but watched in horror as somehow, the shot easily penetrated it, slamming into Nia. With a shout, she was sent flying backwards. Zeke caught her, and she slumped against him, gasping for breath.

"Nia!" Rex cried, his eyes widening in shock, taking a step toward her.

"I'm….I'm fine," Nia said, catching her breath. She drew on her power, healing the oozing wound Bana's shot had left in her stomach, a tattered hole torn in her yellow jumpsuit. "But…that attack went right through Dromarch's ether shield..."

"Yes yes, ether-penetrating rounds," Bana smiled, reloading the shotgun. "Amazing what money can buy you, isn't it?" From within one of his pockets, he pulled out a small remote. "And if you think Bana really outnumbered..."

With a press of a button, one of the walls of the testing grounds gave a mechanical hiss, and slowly began sliding open, revealing…

Nothing but the smoking, shattered remains of what looked to be well over a dozen of the artificial blades they had seen being produced in the factory. Though they were so torn to pieces, it was hard to say just how many there were originally.

"_What!" _Bana snarled, enraged. "Who destroy Bana's latest shipment! WHO-"

Suddenly, with a massive roar, one of the generators in the corner of the room exploded, sending them all flying to the ground, flames and fuel spilling out onto the concrete. Nia covered her head and winced as, one by one, in quick succession, the other generators exploded around them, blasting them with waves of heat, showering them with hot fragments of metal.

When she finally raised her head, the room was full of thick, black smoke, obscuring her vision. She coughed as she struggled to her feet, her eyes stinging, watering. She could see, dimly, through the smoke, the dull orange flickering of chemical fires, feel the intense heat of them battering against her. She could see no one else. "Guys," she called, coughing again as smoke rushed into her lungs. "Where is everyone? Are you okay-"

She flinched as, suddenly, a hand fell on her shoulder. "Hello, Nia," cooed a familiar voice.

Nia spun around. Staring down at her, a bemused sneer written across her features, was Patroka, long black hair floating around her in the heat, cold blue eyes stabbing into Nia, dressed in her long, flowing white robes beneath simple black armor. Her face, as always, deceptively sweet. Patroka could wear a smile that made you think she was a naive, innocent woman. It was only after long exposure that you'd learn that innocent little smile meant she was laughing at you. Behind her stood her blade, Perdido, tall, lanky, almost insect like, a different weapon held in each of its four spindly arms.

And of course, where Patroka was, Mikhail was not far behind. His face swam in from the smoke as well, followed by his massive, muscle-bound, beast-like blade Cressidus, long red hair flowing down his shoulders. Mikhail, of the empty, laughing eyes. Mikhail, to whom everything in the world was a joke. He had a handsome face, and a mop of blonde hair, and the same cold blue eyes as Patroka. He was dressed in his dark, dull red armor that he usually wore on missions, flashing Nia a dangerous smile. Whereas Akhos or Patroka might be cruel, Mikhail had never been so much. But he seemed...hollow, in a way. Like there was simply nothing left in him even capable of connecting with other people anymore. Like even if he tried, he had simply lost all capacity to care.

Nia slapped Patroka's hand away from her shoulder, scrambling backwards. "You two creeps just...stay away from me."

"Creep?" Mikhail's face dropped into a mockery of sadness. "Nia, that's not very nice. You know how hurt I was to hear you had abandoned Jin? I thought you and I….really shared something special."

"In your dreams, Mik," Nia snapped. She looked around nervously, through the haze of smoke. Where was everyone…?

Patroka followed her eye movements and gave a small chuckle. "Looking for your friends? Well, don't bother. They're all already dead."

Despite herself, Nia felt her heart drop into her stomach. "You're lying."

"Oh, you think so?" Patroka's smile was small, mocking. "Are you certain? Humans die so easily, after all, don't they? You know that better than anyone." Patroka stepped forward, menacingly, her smile growing. "Is it really so impossible that some explosions and some shrapnel killed them? I saw that one kid you liked...Rex, Pyra said his name was...with a hole in his head. Bam, gone. Just a tiny piece of hot metal and he's gone forever. You're all alone now. You're all alone, and we're going to give you what a traitor deserves."

Nia stared at her, eyes wide. "R-Rex?" she called, her voice wavering. "REX."

"I'm here," she heard Rex call back, faintly, coughing.

Nia sighed with relief, then glared at Patroka, crouching, backing up further from her. "You lying bitch. I'm over here! Careful, Torna's here!"

"Where?" Rex called back. "Can't see a damn thing-"

"Oh, enough of this," Nia heard Malos suddenly, irritation in his voice. Somewhere deep within the smoke, there was a sudden purplish-black glow. It shot up high above them, towards the ceiling, crashing against it with a roar, eating it up, carving a perfectly smooth, symmetrical hole opening up onto the dying light of the sky. Smoke began funneling out of it rapidly, clearing the room. Nia could quickly see everyone staggering to their feet, recovering from the explosions. Mikhail leapt forward and grabbed for her, growling with frustration as she nimbly danced out of his reach to go stand side by side with her friends.

"Ugh, whatever," Patroka sighed, and with a flash of blue sparks, she was holding a massive ether cannon in her hands, slung low by her hips. Mikhail sighed, and suddenly his hands were encased in his blade's weapon, a pair of massive gauntlets, each nearly half as tall as he was himself.

"We don't have time for this," Rex yelled, pointing his sword at them. "We defeated your leader before. What makes you think you can win?"

Mikhail gave a lighthearted laugh, clenching his gauntlets into ram-like fists. "You defeated Jin when he was sick, kid. Believe me, you have no idea the sort of true power he holds. What he's actually capable of. The Aegis is coming with us. Nia is getting the death she deserves. The rest of you?" He slammed one gauntlet into another. "Leave or be crushed. It's that simple."

"Okay, well, that's definitely not happening," Rex replied dryly.

"Then there's not much left to talk about," Mikhail said smoothly, and he leapt forward, his fists flying through the air, Zeke just managing to parry them before they crashed into Rex's skull.

The party fell into combat with the four.

Pandy, Zeke, Tora and Poppi all had to deal with Perdido. With four weapons, one in each of his hands – a greataxe, a spear, a katana and a hammer – it was all they could do to slow his assault. Every one of his arms was a competent weapons master. Any blows they thought they might be able to land were parried. Fighting him was like fighting four different blades at once.

Patroka herself nimbly leapt backwards, keeping her range, charging up her ether cannon to fire at the group. She was too quick to keep up with, always jumping back twenty feet, laughing, every time someone drew near to her. Nia leapt onto Dromarch's back to pursue her, to at least keep her moving so that she couldn't freely fire on everyone at will.

Malos and Zeke, in the meantime, battled Mikhail and Cressidus. Malos himself took on the large, beast-like blade, carving deep scores into his body that bled with black flame. Without weapons, Cressidus was largely defenseless against his assault, but he was humongous, and barely seemed to feel the attacks, roaring ferally and trying to rake at Malos with his claws. Rex dueled Mikhail himself, doing his best to block the powerful blows from his gauntlets with Vandham's sword, not able to make much headway into actually landing any attacks.

It quickly became apparent that Mikhail and Patroka, outnumbered though they may be, were not going to be simple to defeat. Though the group was holding their own against them, they were barely managing to land any blows, and any they did land Patroka and Mikhail seemed to shrug off. Rex remembered the words of the Brionac officer, and growled in frustration as Mikhail mockingly feinted left, then attempted to land a blow into Rex's gut, that he only just barely blocked in time. "We don't have _time _for this!" he cried. "We have to get back, we have to warn Niall-"

There was a sudden roar of black flame, and Cressidus was sent flying backward, smoke curling from him. "Well, we haven't had much time to practice this," Malos muttered to himself. He grabbed Mikhail by the back of the neck, tossing him aside. While the two were recovering, he offered his sword to Rex. "But if we want to end this quickly, now might be the time to show you what I'm capable of now."

Rex sheathed his claymore, taking up Malos' black blade. "Alright, I'm ready," he nodded confidently.

"No you aren't," Malos replied. "Nobody ever really is."

Suddenly, Rex's mind went blank. He couldn't see the battle around him, couldn't hear anything. He was alone, drifting in an endless gray fog, nothing at his side but Malos' sword.

He spun around in the fog. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't even remember what he had been doing, or how he had gotten here. And there, in the center of the fog, was a large, dark...rip...a hole in reality itself.

And as he watched, it began drinking in the fog, sucking the fog into itself, consuming everything around it, and then it was consuming _him, _and he was in the void, and it was growing smaller and smaller, crushing further and further, until it was an almost infinitely small point, the smallest anything could ever be, crushing Rex within it, until Rex didn't know where the void ended and where he began, until he realized _he was the void- _

And then everything exploded outwards.

On the battlefield, Rex exploded into black flame. He was a shadow, a living shadow in the center of the flame, his eyes two bright, glowing beacons. He stared down curiously at himself, at the flames running up and down his arms. He looked out across the battlefield itself. People...no longer looked like people. It was like when he meditated with Malos. They looked like glowing clouds of light in the vague shape of people. All except for Malos himself. He looked like a blank spot, a shadow. Though...Rex wasn't sure, but he thought perhaps he glimpsed a hint of gold within the darkness.

Rex looked down at himself. He didn't look like that. He looked like a golden cloud. But at the center of his cloud was a small, black void, a tiny black hole, that was slowly devouring him. And suddenly Rex realized he was hungry. Not...in a physical way. In some way more primal than that. He had a hunger to consume, to _be. _

_The four-armed blade. _Rex felt, more than heard, Malos' voice echoing through his head.

He looked over through the darkness. He could see Patroka's blade, like a dancing golden spider, whirling through the void. He reached out to it, and it recoiled, the golden lights of its form shrinking a bit. But it felt so good, it sated the gnawing hunger inside of him. Greedily, he reached out for more.

Malos watched as Rex, wreathed in black flame, drew power from Perdido, sucking in a twisting cord of golden light from the blade that withered and turned black the moment it touched the flames surrounding Rex. Perdido was twisting, screaming, his limbs snapping back and forth hopelessly as his essence was slowly drained out of him. He nodded, a cruel smile lighting up his featured, as he turned and did the same to Cressidus, drawing a cord of golden light out of him as the beastlike blade writhed on the ground.

Mikhail got to his feet, looking over at Cressidus in shock. "What are you doing, you monster?" he cried, leaping towards Malos.

Malos leapt backwards, laughing, dodging his attacks. "Wait your turn. You'll be next."

Nia stopped her pursuit of Patroka, feeling strange movements in the ether. She looked back across the battlefield, her eyes widening as she saw Rex consumed in dark flame. He...it was like the wound that she could feel inside him sometimes, the wound from using Malos' power, had opened up and was devouring him from within. "No," she whispered to herself, turning Dromarch around, steering him back across the battlefield, racing towards Rex and Malos. "No!"

Malos finished devouring Cressidus, the large blade retreating back into his core with a whimper. With a savage twist, Malos sucked the last of life out of him, and his core crystal crumbled into black dust. Mikhail stared at his hands in disbelief as the gauntlets disappeared from them.

Malos barely had time to turn before Nia crashed into him, tackling him. "Bastard," she cried. "Whatever it is you're doing to him, _stop it right now._"

Malos turned to look at Rex. Perdido had withered before his assault, and with a final flash of light, retreated back into his core as well. Across the room, Patroka let out a cry of rage as her ether cannon disappeared from her hands. Rex stared down at the core crystal, still active, still alive.

"Well? You going to finish him off?" Malos asked, ignoring Nia for the moment.

"I..." Rex's voice sounded like it was echoing to them across a vast distance. "I...no...not right."

Malos shrugged. "Have it your way."

And suddenly, Rex was no longer a shadow surrounded by black flame. He was his normal self again, crashing to the floor, gasping for breath. Nia rushed to his side.

Patroka dashed across the battlefield, snatching up Perdido's core crystal. She stared down at it in disbelief, then back at Malos and Rex. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised," she muttered. "I'd heard you'd done something similar to Obrona."

"Then maybe this will surprise you." Malos lifted a finger, and suddenly a massive blast of black flame sent Patroka and Mikhail hurtling backwards, slamming into a wall.

"We...have to get out of here," Mikhail muttered, as he staggered to his feet. "He's going to do...that...to us, if he gets the chance."

Patroka stared down at the core crystal in her hands, then looked back across the battlefield at Rex, an odd expression on her face. "I...yeah, let's go," she muttered. The two of them leapt over the chemical fires slowly sputtering out on the concrete, disappearing down a hallway.

Nia's head was pounding with anger as she knelt by Rex, who was swallowing air in great ragged breaths. She had gotten….used to the idea that Rex would hurt himself with Malos power when it was necessary. She hated it, but she had gotten used to it. But this, this was so much worse...and damn it, she had started to like Malos. "You're a bloody bastard," she hissed at him, as he approached her. "Brute. Butcher."

Malos' eyes widened. "I thought you'd like this aspect of my power," he said, seeming genuinely surprised. "Using it, Rex can reconstitute himself. It's risky to use, of course. It can consume you if you're not careful. But he feasted on that blade. He should be fine."

"I..." Nia glanced over at Rex, then reached out through the ether. It...was true. Physically, Rex was fine. But the wound within him, the part she couldn't heal, no matter how hard she tried….it had worsened, torn open like a hole within him. She looked at Malos, her eyes widening. Malos knew his power could physically hurt Rex. Did he...just not know about what else it was doing to him? Would that be...such a surprise? Malos was many things, but he was no healer. Was she the only one who could tell the deeper damage it was doing? Did Rex himself even know?

"I'm….fine," Rex said, finally catching his breath. "Just..." he shook his head, blinking flashing stars out of his vision. "Just give me a second, here..."

"Take it easy, you big idiot," Nia muttered at him, as he tried to stand, and fell backward on his ass.

Tatazo, who had cowered in a corner during the battle, finally removed his wings from his eyes. "It...over?" he said, cautiously. "Where Bana go?"

"Just a moment. Poppi scanning." Poppi's eyes glowed red, and she slowly rotated around the room. "Poppi detects no biological signals other than party here. It seem Bana escape during confusion."

"Tora suppose even legendary Bana know when to pick his battles," the nopon mused.

Zeke strode over to kneel beside Rex, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You alright there, chum? That was...some intense Aegis mojo there."

Rex, finally recovering, shook his head once more, then struggled to his feet. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright." He took one final breath, closing his eyes, then opened them once more, full of determination. "We can talk later. We have to get back to the palace as soon as possible."

The party cautiously made their way around the sputtering flames of the destroyed generators, running down a long hallway to the humongous double-door exits of the factory. It opened up into the abandoned ghost town surrounding the factory, a lonely wind blowing dust through the streets. Daylight had nearly gone, the sky stained red and purple by the setting sun. Rex groaned as he put a hand to his eyes and peered at where they had entered the factory, the mine sitting on a cliff far above the town. "Damn it, it's gonna take us way too long to get back up there to the trucks," he muttered.

Tatazo pointed to their right. There sat a few large delivery vehicles, presumably used by Bana when he was shipping products out or material into the factory. "Why not take one of these? Tatazo can hotwire."

They all piled into the back of one of the trucks, as Malos took the wheel and Zeke took the passenger seat of the cab. With a little fiddling from Tatazo, and a shock from Pandy, the truck's engine roared to life. Malos slammed on the gas, and it lurched forward at incredible, dangerous speed, tires squealing before they found purchase and the truck began tearing across the desert.

Nia sat next to Rex quietly in the back of the truck, watching him closely. He...seemed alright. But at the same time, she could feel that wound within him, like a great bleeding hole. She reached out through the ether, probing at the wound. She...didn't know what it meant, really. It...didn't quite feel like a physical wound. But at the same time, it felt like it should be something that should have Rex on the ground, screaming in pain. But here he was, looking perfectly fine. And as dense as he was, she didn't think that he was trying to conceal the pain this time. Was this...inner wound something that not even he could detect…? Was her own sense of healing just going haywire…? Nia shook her head. If there was one thing she knew, it was to heal. Mending came to her as naturally as breathing. It wasn't her imagining things. But just what the wound was, she didn't know.

Night fell as they drove across the desert, racing back to Alba Cavanich. "Look, it the palace!" Tora cried, peering out a window in the back of the truck.

They all turned to look at the monolithic, imposing black palace of Mor Ardain. And as they watched, Brighid's blue flame burst out of one of the windows.

**35.**

Morag sighed, rubbing her temples, as she listened to Sylvie badgering her brother.

They were within the throne room, Morag, Aegaeon and Brighid standing in one corner, chatting idly, while Niall sat at his sprawling desk, nodding politely as Sylvie rambled on and on. Morag had told him that he simply shouldn't allow her to make visits like this. But Niall had insisted that, as Emperor, he should have an open door policy for, at the very least, the more important Senators representing each party. And well, for the Brionac party, that meant Sylvie. Who made full use of the time.

She was dressed in her Brionac uniform as always, black leather inlaid with gleaming silver skulls. She was pacing back and forth in front of the desk, which had an unrolled map pinned to it. "Look here, your majesty," she said, jabbing her finger toward the map. "Uraya has ramped up their power armor production. New workshops here, here and here. Now, their industrial capacity is pathetic compared to our factories. But Urayan power armor is no joke. Now, we all know this war is coming. The more you delay, the more Urayan soldiers will be equipped with power armor when we finally do face them. We should strike now, when-"

"Not when negotiations are ongoing, Senator," Niall replied calmly.

Sylvie threw up her hands, glaring at him. "Then at the very least, let's approve some sabotage. We have spies in the region. A few well-placed bombs will-"

"I do not wish," Niall interrupted, still calm, "To inflame tensions with Uraya while negotiations are ongoing."

"This could make your precious negotiations go smoother!" Sylvie shouted, slamming her fist down. "When do you think Uraya is more likely to make concessions? When they're well-equipped for war? Or when they can't even provide their soldiers with basic equipment? I'm practically doing you a favor, here!"

Niall opened his mouth to reply, but was suddenly interrupted by Aegaeon.

"Wait." the obsidian blade held a hand up as everyone looked at him curiously. "Quiet. Do you hear that?"

They all listened for a moment. Brighid furrowed her brow. "I don't hear anything-"

And then, there it was. The unmistakable sound of distant gunfire.

Sylvie frowned. "One of the battalions must be breaking regulation on the curfew for live-fire target practice."

"No," Aegaeon muttered, suspiciously. "The shots are too irregular for target practice. Something's wrong-"

Suddenly, the doors to the throne room burst open, revealing the lumbering figure of someone clad in Urayan power armor, face concealed behind a massive gray helmet, more Urayans visible behind him. He raised a rifle, and immediately aimed directly for Niall and fired.

Sylvie shouted, tackling Niall to the ground, upending the desk to form a barricade as Aegaeon, Morag and Brighid immediately dashed to the door, cutting down the Urayan. More gunfire erupted as the Urayans behind him opened up with their weapons.

"Urayans!" Sylvie snarled, drawing her sidearm. She glanced over at Niall, who was pale, trembling beside her, crouched behind the desk. "You alright, your majesty?"

"I...yes," he said quietly, catching his breath. "Thank you, Senator."

Sylvie leaned over the upturned desk, squinting, and popping off a few shots with her handgun, nodding in grim satisfaction as one of the Urayans fell with a scream. "I don't understand," she snapped, ducking back behind the desk, wincing as the wood above her splintered as they returned fire. She grabbed another clip from her belt, sliding it into her gun. "How the hell are Urayans even here?"

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the palace, as Brighid unleashed massive wave of blue flame, blowing out a window. The Urayans, those who were not killed by their armor melting around them, scattered. Dull, distant thuds, muffled explosions, and the cracking sounds of gunfire, told her there were more on their way. "I don't know," she said calmly, "But it seems like there are a lot of them."

"Oh ho ho, well," Sylvie said, rolling her eyes, "Sure seems like debate's a moot point now, eh, Emperor? You might not want to invade their capital, but they've gone ahead and invaded ours first. For counter-strike, I recommend-"

"Can we please wait until the danger is over," Morag snapped, "Before we go ahead and score political points off this attack?"

"I...uh, right," Sylvie replied, somewhat abashed.

"Something about this isn't making any sense," Aegaeon said, as he pulled a book case down in front of the door to the throne room. "This many Urayans entering the capital by stealth is impossible. And there's no way they made it past the fleets. What exactly is going on here…?"

Sylvie leapt over the desk, heading to a small radio communication station installed in the wall. She flicked it on, wincing as the sound of screams and gunfire echoed through the throne room from the radio. She tried flicking through a few different stations, getting the same result on each one. "...Architect's hoary hangnail," she said, paling after she flicked through one station. "That was the receiver in the Senator's quarters. I...recognized some of those screams."

"So. It seems we don't know where in the palace is safe or not." Niall stood, brushing dust and wood splinters off himself.

"Well," Morag said, catching her breath and sheathing her swords, "It seems the throne room is as safe a place as any, for now. I recommend we wait until the situation evolves, then see if we can't hail friendly forces on the radio."

They waited for a tense twenty minutes. It seemed that however the Urayans had managed to make their way into the capital, they had managed to bring a lot of their equipment with them. Explosions rocked the palace, sometimes dangerously close, close enough to send books falling to the floor from the bookshelves with the aftershock, and the gunfire went on forever, unceasing. Sylvie kept trying to hail friendly forces on the radio, but every station was filled with the sound of gunfire, or dead air. Even the stations outside the palace, from the civilian defense force, were suspiciously quiet.

Finally, Morag sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Well, we can't wait here forever," she muttered. "We should-"

They all jumped out of their skins at the sound of a sudden knock on the door. "Friends of the Emperor!" came a muffled voice on the other side.

Sylvie immediately relaxed. "I know that voice," she said. "That's Colonel Roderich. Thank the Titans, a friendly face."

Aegaeon and Morag pulled aside the bookcases barricading the throne room doorway, throwing the doors open. Beyond it was a grim-looking colonel, his hair gray, skin drawn taught against his face, followed by a platoon of soldiers. He wore a uniform similar to Sylvie's. "Well, well," he said, as he and his soldiers entered the throne room, removing his cap and running a hand through his hair. "We were looking for you." His eyes flicked to Sylvie, and he nodded. "Senator."

"Colonel, what is going on out there?" Morag asked, walking forward. "We were attacked here by a group of Urayans. There's absolutely no communication channels open. What's going on?"

"Yes. They're all over the place." Roderich shook his head as he walked further into the throne room. "I have no idea what's going on with the radio stations being down. But we've finally got the defense a bit organized. We're here to escort you and the Emperor to a safe location."

Suddenly, he spun around, his soldiers bringing up their rifles, as the sound of footsteps hammering down the hallway to the throne room could be heard. Moments later, Rex, Malos, Nia, Dromarch, Zeka, Pandoria, Tora, and Poppi burst into the throne room, out of breath.

"Lower your weapons, these are friends," Morag ordered, walking forward to greet them. "You lot have made your way back at an awkward time. We're...wait, is that Poppi?" she asked, her eyes widening at the sight of Poppi's new form.

Rex stood, seeing Roderich standing next to the Emperor. He saw the uniform the dark-eyed Colonel was wearing, and his eyes widened with shock. "Assassin!" he shouted, flinging an accusatory finger at the officer.

"I...what?" Morag said, turning around.

Just in time to see Colonel Roderich grimly draw a handgun, and point it at Niall. Niall stared up at him, sadness and betrayal in his eyes.

"For Mor Ardain," Roderich hissed, his voice cold, merciless.

"No," Morag shouted, her hands going to her blades.

Roderich squeezed the trigger, firing. Niall's body jerked backwards as the bullet entered his chest. Roderich fired again, and again. Niall fell against a wall, slumping down, leaving a long bloody streak against it.

Roderich turned, a triumphant, awful smile etched against his features.

Morag was only dimly aware of the soldiers around her opening fire, only dimly aware of Rex and his party attacking them, only dimly aware of Aegaeon, at her side, holding his hands to the side of his head and disappearing, with a burst of light, back into his core crystal. The world around her went blank. She drew her blades, and with incredible speed, dashed across the throne room, sliding them into Roderich's chest.

He merely smiled at her as blood began to drip from his mouth. "Do what you want," he sputtered, wheezing. "We have already won."

"Why kill him," Morag asked, her ears ringing. "I'm the one next in line for the throne. Did you think I would go along…?"

"You," Roderich replied, before the lights went out of his eyes, "Will be hung for treason...for conspiring with the enemy. More than enough evidence..." He looked off into the distance, his eyes misting over, "all...worth it...for Mor Ardain..."

Morag slid her blades out of him as he slumped, limply, against her, letting his body fall with a thud to the floor.

"Oh no," Brighid said at her side. For the only time in her life that Morag had ever seen, her blade was openly weeping. She put a gloved hand to her mouth as she stared at Niall. "Oh, Niall. Oh, my sweet Emperor. No, no..."

Morag was oblivious to the battle raging behind her. She approached her brother, kneeling beside him, taking his hand. It twitched in hers, and she lifted her eyes to his face, gentle wiping some of the blood away from his mouth. "Niall?" she asked, softly.

"Scared," Niall sputtered, blood flecking his chin as he struggled to speak. "sc-scared."

And then his hand went limp in hers, and he was still.

Memories of her brother flooded her mind. The first time she had ever held him in her arms. Taking him for long walks on the palace grounds. His childish laughter echoing through the halls, bringing joy to her heart. All gone, now. Gone forever.

Morag stood, her eyes blank, taking her blades in her hand once more. Sylvie was staring at Niall's body in shock. Her eyes slowly rose to meet Morag's. "Morag, I swear I didn't know," she whispered. "I...I would never..."

"Why not?" Malos called, his voice ringing clear throughout the throne room. Sylvie turned to stare at him with wide eyes. He was busy pulling off a helmet from one of the bodies of the Urayan soldiers lying in the throne room, tearing it off with an awful wrenching screech of metal. He looked grimly at what lay inside. It wasn't an Urayan, but rather an Ardainian. "A false flag attack," he muttered. He looked back up at Sylvie. "Why not?" he asked again. "Isn't it just like you said? You do what needs to be done. Even if it makes the whole world hate you."

All the blood drained out of Sylvie's face, and she lifted a hand to her mouth in shock and horror. "Not like this," she whispered. "Never like this."

Morag stared at Sylvie for a long moment. "Out of my way," she said, utterly emotionless. Before her, the battle had ended. Rex and the others had made short work of the soldiers attending Roderich. The sound of shouting voices echoed down the hallway, more soldiers approaching. They did not sound friendly.

She made her way past the group, not listening to a word they said, only pausing at the doors to the throne room. Down the hallway, more men in Urayan armor were making their way. "For Niall," she whispered, quietly. Then she dashed out to meet them.

Zeke watched this, then stared at Niall's body, shaking his head. "Come on. Let's go help her. We can sort this mess out later."

"Oh yes, you should definitely do that," Nia said, her eyes flicking to Niall's body. "Come on, let's all go help her _right now. _Come on everyone, danger danger, that's right, everyone out! Yes, you too," she snapped at Sylvie, ushering her towards the door. "Yes, let's all go help Morag. Come on. There you go. _Go." _Dromarch, the last one out, gave her a curious glance as he headed out the door. "Make sure they don't come in until...well. You know."

Dromarch's eyes widened. "Do you mean to…?"

"Yes," Nia said softly. "Hurry. Go."

Finally, Dromarch left the throne room to go join the battle in the hallway, and Nia slammed the door shut behind him.

She dashed over to Niall's body, reaching out through the ether once more. The boy could definitely be saved. When he had been shot, the bullets had passed through his lungs, but not one had hit his heart. In fact, things were not nearly as bad as they seemed. The flame in him still held strong, and probably would for a minute or so more before fading away completely.

Nia breathed deeply, glancing with worry at the door to the throne room. Someone...was definitely going to feel this. But it didn't matter.

With a flash of light, she assumed her Flesh Eater form, long, flowing white robes, her ears growing much longer, revealing the flesh eater gem embedded into her chest. Despite herself, she couldn't help but laugh. It felt so...right, being like this. And the power to heal that danced at her fingertips was simply incredible. So little was beyond her power. She could heal anyone, absolutely anyone, of anything-

_Like Vandham? _The voice inside her head hissed. Nia paused for a moment, then shook her head. It was no time for that. She had a job to do.

She leaned over Niall's body, gentle light radiating from her, primal waters flowing forth from her fingertips. His tormented, ruined form knitted together neatly before her eyes. She sighed. She...loved this. She loved to heal. It felt so damn right.

"There you go, you're going to be alright," she murmured, as Niall's chest began to rise and fall again. "You're going to be just fine. Don't you worry. Don't be scared. I'll take care of you."

Suddenly, Niall's eyes flickered open, gently. He stared up at Nia for a few moments, as she smiled down at him. "What...what's happening?" he said, groggily, as if he was awakening from a long sleep. He rubbed his eyes, then focused them on Nia. His eyes landed on the red and blue crystal embedded in her chest, and widened.

Nia gasped, then clasped her hands to her chest. She had been so engrossed in healing him that she had completely forgotten how exposed she was.

Niall struggled to sit up as Nia backed away. "You...you're a flesh eater," he said, wonderingly.

With a flash of light, Nia's Flesh Eater form disappeared. She was back in her driver form, her hair shorter, her ears shorter, her crystal covered up by her yellow jumpsuit. "...Aye, that's right," he said quietly. "I am."

"You...saved me..." Niall continued, touching his chest where, only moments ago, ragged holes had been torn in his body.

"Yes. So….please don't tell anyone what you saw," Nia whispered. "Please, alright?"

Niall stood, taking her hands, laughing delightedly. "You...are an angel," he said, his eyes shining bright as he stared at her. "I promise, I won't tell anyone your secret. How could I? You...bought me back from death. You...I can never repay you. All the riches in the world couldn't repay what you've done for me."

"Ah, don't be silly. All I did was put things right." Nia wagged her finger at him. "Now, you're still gonna want to get your rest and eat plenty of food. Your body still needs time to recover. I-"

The door to the throne room burst open, Dromarch leading the way in, followed by the others. "I'm telling you," Pandy was saying, "You guys didn't feel that in the ether? Something weird's going on. Something big-"

"Niall…?" Morag said, wonderingly, seeing him standing by Nia's side.

"Ah, yeah, he's fine. Examined him, turned out the bullets just ricocheted off his rib cage, lucky bugger. A little internal bleeding, but nothing I couldn't patch up," Nia said, as Morag rushed forward to grab Niall by the shoulder, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"I'm real, sister," Niall laughed, as Morag kept poking and grabbing at him. "It's as your friend said. The wounds were less serious than they appeared."

"Less serious?" Pandy crossed her arms suspiciously. "Dude, we saw you get shot point blank in the chest. Like three times." She stared at Niall, then stared over at Nia. "Something weird is going on here."

"Let it go for now, Pandy," Zeke replied. "Let's all just be glad Niall's safe."

"That's our Nia," Rex laughed, beaming at her. The admiration his face made Nia blush. "She's a real saint, that one."

"Oh, shaddap, you wanker," she snapped at him, but wasn't able to contain a small grin.

"Hey, I'm serious. You're one of the best people I know." Rex scratched his chin. "Might have to work on that sailor's mouth of yours if you want to be a saint, though."

"Poppi agree," Poppi piped up. "Even though Nia cannot heal Poppi, Poppi see her healing others all the time. Poppi need Tora for repairs. But Nia is like a Tora to all her friends!"

"Architect forbid. If that were true, I'd have the boys all dressed up half-naked. Actually, now that you mention it..." Nia stopped as Brighid approached her.

She stared at Morag and Niall, as Niall assured her that he was real and alive. "You've...healed the two most important people in my life, bought them back from the edge of death," murmured Brighid. "I hope you will excuse me for this...display of emotion...but..."

And suddenly Nia found herself wrapped up in a tight hug from Brighid. She sputtered, muffled, against her chest.

"Thank you, Nia," Brighid whispered quietly to her. "If there is ever anything you need, anything at all, I will be there for you." Then she let go, blushing slightly. "Well. Like I said. Excuse me for that outburst."

"You all are such a sappy lot. It's no big deal, really." Nia crossed her arms and tried to look annoyed. But try as as she might, she could not stop the large, happy grin spreading across her face.

**Note**

I told you this was going to be a long one, I had considered splitting this up into two separate chapters. But I figured people might appreciate an extra-long chapter after me being gone for a while. With this all done here, now we just have one more chapter in 'Chapter 4' of the game. Then we move on to Chapter 5.

I've tried hard to make this story more than just a simple retelling of the events of the main game. But the ending of Chapter 5, and the second half of the story, are where things REALLY start to diverge, so I'm looking forward to that

A couple of you noticed last chapter that I accidentally had Zeke shirtless for a scene with Poppi in it, the truth is I just completely forgot while writing that scene, I may go back and edit it at some point. It's not like him being shirtless is vital for that scene

As always, please leave comments! They are very inspiring to read


	18. Chapter 18

**36.**

It wasn't much later that the sounds of distant gunfire began to die down. Soon after, Sylvie was able to begin picking up reports from the civilian radio outside the palace.

"An Urayan attack on the capital-"

"Rumored that traitorous elements within the government helped Urayans launch a terrorist strike on the palace-"

"Emperor unaccounted for, many officials missing and confirmed killed-"

The airwaves were dominated by broadcasters speaking in hushed, panicked tones. Rex remembered how unthinkable it had seemed to so many Ardainians that they might actually face an attack in their capital. Ironically, they had been right. The attack came from within. But it seemed whoever was feeding information to the radio stations was doing well to ensure that a particular story got out first.

"We have an announcement, from Supreme Commander Nelson, of the War Council," one authoritative-sounding broadcaster intoned. Sylvie stopped switching the radio stations for a moment, as a grim, raspy voice filled the room.

"Yes. I am a military man, no Senator or politician. So I will keep this brief and to the point." The commander paused, drawing in a long breath before continuing on. "Citizens of Alba Cavanich, and of Mor Ardain. I can confirm that tonight there was an attack on the palace by Urayan forces. They were equipped with small arms, and a limited amount of light artillery. The attack has been driven off, and the palace guard has re-established control. I must advise citizens of the capital to _stay away from the palace. _Not only is it unknown if all enemy forces are encountered for, but security is on high alert. _Remain within your homes, and do not approach the palace. Palace guard has been given the order to shoot intruders on sight. _It is not thought that Urayan forces struck outside the palace. If you see any, remain calm, stay within your residence, and make attempts to contact the civilian defense by radio. We believe that most of the attacking force is dead. I will be giving updates on the security situation as it evolves and as soon as more information is available.

It is currently unknown how they were able to make their way onto palace grounds. I will not speculate here, only to say that it is confirmed that no Urayan ships were spotted by the Homeland Defense Armada. I ask you to refrain from speculation or the spread of wild rumors. Stations that engage in baseless fearmongering will be shut down on order of the War Council. The most important thing right now is to keep our discipline, and evaluate the situation once we have more information.

Many lives were lost today. If you have family in the palace, I understand your concern, but please, as mentioned before, _do not approach the palace. _Do not add to the tragedy by foolishly interfering with security. We will be coming out with a list of the casualties as soon as possible. I will confirm that, yes, the Emperor is currently unaccounted for. Control has only been re-established mere minutes ago. As soon as we know of his status, we will make an announcement. Hail Mor Ardain."

Morag strode over, flicking a switch, shutting the radio off. She smiled bitterly, shaking her head. "A good actor. You might even believe he cared. Nelson is a Brionac man, through and through. If anyone knew about this, he did."

"So, wait," Zeke said, scratching his chin in consideration. "If you and Niall had both bought it, would he be the one taking over?" 

Niall shook his head, sighing softly to himself. "No. If Morag and I were to die, imperial sovereignty would be passed over to the War Council as a whole. No one person would assume the throne. It was...intended as a safeguard against encouraging ambitious nobility, back in the day. I suppose we never fully accounted for the possibility that the ambitious might be just fine with a junta."

"Well, we have to get the word out!" Rex said, stamping his foot. "We have to let people know the truth about what happened!" Sylvie looked up at him, giving him an odd look, dark circles beneath her eyes.

"It's not so simple, Rex," Niall murmured.

Before Rex could answer, the door to the throne room opened quietly. Beyond it stood a man in a Brionac uniform, quite a high-ranking officer from the looks of all the regalia pinned to his chest. His face was gaunt, hard, icy eyes sunk into his skull, jet-black hair peaking out from beneath his cap. The silver skull on his cap looked as if it was laughing. Behind him stood more officers, at least a dozen of them, all peering into the throne room. His eyes scanned the room quickly, taking in the bodies, and widened slightly upon seeing Niall. But no more than that. "Your majesty," he said, smoothly, sliding into the throne room, the other officers filing in behind him. "I'm glad to see you've survived the attack." He glanced back meaningfully at the men around him, who slipped past him to begin dragging the bodies out of the throne room. Turning back again, he gestured around at Rex and the party surrounding him. "I assume your friends here helped you repel the invaders. Mor Ardain owes you all a debt of gratitude."

"Commander Maclair," Niall replied, drawing himself up to his full height. The officer eyed the ragged holes in his imperial regalia with interest. "Are the...enemy forces all defeated? Can we expect any more...bloodshed, tonight?"

It was a tense moment as the Brionac officer eyed him intensely. He glanced around, at Morag, staring at him coldly, her hands slowly going for her blades. There was a long, deadly pause. And then finally, the officer slowly gave a small smirk. "No, I see no reason why there should be," he said, and there was awful confidence in his voice. "Almost all of the...enemy forces are dead. No need to get bloody when we have the remaining ones surrounded. All we await on...is a surrender."

Sylvie stared at him, her eyes filled with malice. Niall merely sighed, a long, defeated sigh. "I see. Well, please inform the population of my safety. I would hate that the people might worry on my account." Pain crossed his face, and he looked away. "What a tragic day for Mor Ardain."

"Tragic indeed. We can talk in the morning." The officer produced a small sheaf of papers from his jacket. "I have here a list of casualties. Please review them before we meet tomorrow, your majesty." He stepped forward, handing the list to Niall. The Emperor's eyes widened to see the length of it. "Will your friends be returning to their suites…?"

"I...think it best they remain here, until we are absolutely certain there's no more bloodshed to be had," Niall replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "We have room in the imperial apartments."

Maclair shrugged. "As you will have it. See you tomorrow, Emperor." With a small gesture, he motioned to the officers behind him, who began filing out of the throne room.

"Commander Maclair," Niall called, as he was about to exit the throne room himself. The Commander turned around, a quizzical eyebrow raised. Niall was going through the list in his hand, and looked up at him, a sad, bitter smile on his face. "Was it worth it…?"

Maclair seemed genuinely shocked by the question. For a moment, his expression became distant, haunted. Morag imagined she could, for a moment, see the young soldier Maclair must once have been. The man he must have been before the Clockwork Demon reached down and turned him into the bloody instrument of history he was now. It was brief, only a moment, before his face hardened again. "All that I do," he replied quietly, "I do for Mor Ardain."

And with that, he exited the throne room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as he did, the papers slipped from Niall's shaking hands, falling to the floor, and, trembling, he staggered. Zeke rushed forward to catch him before he collapsed, Morag only a step behind him.

"He needs his rest," Nia yelled, moving forward. "His body needs time to catch up with the healing! Someone get him some food."

Zeke gently laid Niall into a chair that Brighid dragged over, and the young Emperor slumped against the desk. "So much death," he muttered to himself, his face in his hands. "So much death."

Sylvie had slowly, quietly gathered the sheaf of papers he dropped, and was cautiously paging through them, her eyes growing wider and wider. "But...oh Architect, there are hundreds of names here," she said, voice quavering. "Oh...what...what have they done?" she lowered her hands to her side, tears falling down her face. "They...even killed Brionac Senators. Why…?"

"Well, sure," Malos replied, his voice grim. Sylvie, shaking uncontrollably, looked toward him. "Would be suspicious if no Brionac died in the attack, right? What better way to make the attack seem legitimate than to kill off a few of your own? As long as you kill more of your opponents."

"What are you still doing here, Sylvie?" Morag snapped suddenly. She was kneeling at her brother's side, glaring up at her. "Go join them. Go join your killer friends. Go join your fellow butchers."

Sylvie was suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on her. She wiped her eyes, desperately trying to stop the tears. "Please, Morag," she gasped, finally, unable to stop them. "You have to believe me. I...I never wanted this. Please..." she said, looking around the room, at the cold, suspicious stares boring into her. "This..." She looked with despair, down at the list of names. So many names. So many that she knew. So many she had argued with, but always with a smile in her heart. All gone. Gone forever. Her head swam as the awful magnitude of it all hit her. "I..."

"Morag, please," Niall said, placing a hand on her arm. "I...don't believe Sylvie knew about this. She certainly didn't spend all that time arguing with me because she thought I'd be killed and irrelevant anyway. For all we know, they intended for her name to be on that list as well."

"I don't care if she didn't know," Morag replied, uncharacteristically emotional. She couldn't help it. Seeing her brother die before her eyes, seeing the crimes committed by the Brionac party...she had come to Mor Ardain holding hope in her heart that she could prove Cole wrong. But what was left of Mor Ardain's honor? Where snakes and traitors stalked its halls of power, was there much left worth saving…? She sighed, sadness creeping into her voice. "Oh, Sylvie," she murmured. "Why couldn't you have been better…? It didn't have to be like this."

Morag's words twisted in Sylvie's heart like a knife. Pale, trembling, she placed the papers on the Emperor's desk, backing off. "I'm...so sorry," she whispered.

"But..." Rex said, finally, having watched all this silently. "I...aren't you going to arrest them…?"

Niall sighed as he spread out the papers before him, casting hollow, hurt eyes across the names. "They...were very thorough, Rex. I had precious few who might stand up to Brionac before tonight. They're...all gone. They control the radio stations, they control what the people know. I...don't know what options I have anymore."

"It's not right," Rex continued, despair creeping into his voice. "We...discovered their plans, we stopped the assassination..."

"Yes. But...this has been a long time coming." Niall put his face into his hands again, and Morag's heart twisted to see the sadness on his face. "It's politics. There's not always a happy ending. I don't think there can be a happy ending for Mor Ardain anymore. Maybe there never could be."

**37.**

That night, they slept in the imperial suites, luxurious apartments located off the side of the throne room. Niall insisted upon it, not certain whether or not they would be safe returning to the diplomatic suites. Though they were large, they didn't have nearly enough beds for everyone. Rex and Malos ended up sleeping on the floor in the living room, while Nia and Dromarch cuddled up on the couch.

Nia awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of Rex tossing and turning, muttering to himself. She yawned, stretching, rolling over to glare at him as he thrashed about in his blankets. "Cor, will you go to sleep?" she snapped at him through the darkness. "It's like a restless puppy is in the room or something."

"Sorry, sorry," Rex muttered back, rolling over to face her. His eyes gleamed in the darkness. "I...haven't been able to sleep all night. Don't think I'll be able to. I can leave if it's bothering you."

Nia looked around the room. The pad that Malos had been resting on was empty. She sighed, pushing the warm, purring Dromarch off of her as she sat up. "What is it?" she asked. Although she thought she already had a pretty good idea of what was bothering Rex.

"It's just..." Rex sat up as well, turning to face her. She could see the consternation on his face as he talked. "The...Brionac, they tried to kill Niall, and they _did _kill a whole bunch of people. And now they're lying to everyone about what happened...but we know the truth, we should be out there, telling people what actually happened, Niall should arrest them..."

"Arrest them with who?" Nia shook her head sadly. "He can't do it alone. You heard him, they murdered everyone who could have stood up to them. And why would anyone believe us? They'd just say we were lying, and then probably try to have us killed to shut us up."

"He's...the Emperor, isn't he? I'm sure if he talked, people would listen."

"Maybe. Or maybe Brionac would just kill him again if he tried. They control almost everything now, I'm sure it would be a lot easier for them the next go-around. I don't….I don't really know what he can do, Rex. Sometimes...you do everything you possibly can...and the bad guys still win."

Rex was silent for a moment. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm no child. I know not everything gets a happy ending. But….this…." He looked up at her, and the pain in his eyes was like a knife to her heart. "It's...sick. It's so wrong. They murdered hundreds of people who...trusted them, stabbed them in the back...and they're going to kill thousands more, if they can. I...we have Malos on our side, the bloody Aegis, we should be able to do something about it..."

"Like what? Blow up the Ardainian Titan?" Nia asked quietly.

Rex's eyes widened in shock. "What? No. What kind of monster would that make me?"

Nia looked at him, her eyes mysterious in the dim moonlight filtering through the windows. "Why don't you ask Malos? He thought it was worth destroying a Titan to stop something awful, at one point."

"That was different," Rex replied, uncertainly.

"Was it? Pyra...Mythra...was off destroying Titans left and right, yeah? Was that really so different from what Mor Ardain's gonna do? The biggest, bloodiest war the world's ever seen?" Nia winced a bit as she spoke. She knew that Rex admired Malos. It was the reason he was so willing to accept the Aegis power. But she...wanted him to think more about the kind of man Malos might be. It wasn't even that she hated Malos anymore, or even disliked him, really. But the Aegis had a darkness in him that she...she knew Rex would never really approve of. She thought she knew Rex that well. Malos...was bloody-minded enough to be a murderer, if he thought it necessary.

Rex was quiet for a long time. Suddenly, he looked to his side. "Where _is _Malos?" he wondered. He slowly got to his feet, stretching out, shaking a bit as he pushed to the limit. "I'm gonna go take a look around for him. Let you get some sleep."

Malos looked out through the long hallway of Emperors outside the throne room, out to where the palace opened up to the airdock that served as its rooftop. He flickered through the shadows, barely visible when darkness fell completely across him.

There, framed by the moonlight, a lone figure on the edge of the roof, stood Sylvie, smoking a cigarette. Her shadow stretched across the roof as she looked down from the edge. She didn't turn around as Malos opened the door to the outside.

It was a calm, cool night. It was almost obscene how comfortable it felt, actually. After what happened yesterday, it seemed wrong that Mor Ardain's night could wrap you in gentle arms that made you feel as if all was right in the world.

Sylvie kept her silence, even as Malos came to stand next to her, merely glancing over at him. He crossed his arms, staring down at the ground below.

There, in the palace courtyard, arranged in neat rows, were the bodies of everyone who had died yesterday. They were spaced out from each other, each wrapped in a blanket, each a faceless, mummified monument to the horror. Each one had a small collection of items placed by their feet, presumably to help identify them. There were so many of them, they filled nearly the entire courtyard, stretching on for what seemed like forever.

"Do you believe me?" Sylvie asked quietly. Malos merely looked at her, saying nothing. "Do you believe me, when I say I knew nothing of this? That I would have never done anything like this?"

Malos considered for a moment. "What do you think war is?" he said, finally. "You told me you were willing to conquer the world, even if it made everyone hate you. You'd have caused more death than this."

"That's different," Sylvie replied, her eyes hollow, dark, as she stared down at the courtyard. "That's...death in battle. Even if...everyone who died yesterday, had died in an honest war...but this...cut down by the people they trusted, murdered by the people who were supposed to protect them..."

"Don't you understand?" Malos snapped at her, suddenly. "You told me, you told yourself, you were willing to do what needs to be done. Well, what do you think this is?" He gestured out over the courtyard, over all the bodies. "This is what your friends _thought needed to be done._" He shook his head. "Maybe you thought...doing what needs to be done made you noble. That it made me noble. But if you're going to believe that you're willing to do whatever it takes, _anything_, you can't lie to yourself, you can't tell yourself that being ruthless, being bloody, makes you a good person. You need to be honest with yourself. Either you have limits on what you're willing to do...or you're a monster. Maybe you think you're a monster with the right ideas. But you're a monster all the same."

Sylvie closed her eyes, putting a hand to her face again as tears threatened to begin falling once more. "And what about you?" she asked, after a moment. "Are there...limits to what you're willing to do?"

Malos kept his silence, and did not answer.

"Maybe you're right," Sylvie continued, after a moment. "I...would never have done anything like this. No matter what it would have bought me. But like a fool, I ran with wolves who gladly would have. The blood on their hands is on mine as well. I am a monster."

"No. I don't think so."

Sylvie and Malos turned around. There, in the moonlight, stood Rex, looking defiantly up at them. "Whatever you are, lady, I don't think it's a monster. You were willing to risk getting caught just to help us get our friend back. A monster wouldn't do something like that."

"I...appreciate the sentiment, Rex," Sylvie replied, giving a crooked, bitter, despairing smile. "But...there's no use denying what I am." She closed her eyes, her smile growing yet more crooked and broken. "I've walked hand in hand with butchers and led...dozens of my friends and colleagues to their deaths. I...don't deserve any sympathy. What a fool I was. I..." she glanced down at the courtyard. "If there was any justice in this world, I'd be down there with them."

"I don't believe that!" Rex shouted, suddenly furious. Malos raised his eyebrows at the boy's passion. "Maybe you were tricked into go along with them. And maybe you honestly were a bad person. But you obviously regret it! It doesn't have to _be _like this. Even if everything around you is going rotten, even if you've walked a thousand miles down the wrong path, even if you think you can't ever be forgiven, _even if you're right that you can't be, _it's never too late to start doing the right thing!"

"That's...not always true, Rex." Malos shook his head, dark shadows concealing his eyes. "Sometimes...it really is too late for some people. Sometimes...there's really only one thing to be done once someone's walked too far down the wrong path."

"I don't believe that," Rex shot back at him, clenching his fists defiantly. He looked back up at Sylvie, eyes beaming with honesty and hope. "If you mean what you say," he continued, "Then I hope that one good thing can come out of all this...bloodiness. I hope you can turn around. I hope that you can start being the good person I think you can be. Mor Ardain needs good people. It clearly needs them."

Sylvie drew a slightly shaking hand up to her mouth, staring at Rex. "Do...you understand what I did? Do you understand what was done yesterday…? Entire families….entire noble lines wiped out because Brionac thought they might get in the way. I helped that happen. I...can't ever be a good person."

Rex was silent for a moment, staring at her with fire in his eyes. "Yes you can," he said simply. "It's never too late."

Malos watched Rex, staring down the Senator. He admired the kid's hope and sense of justice. But sometimes, it really was too late for some people.

Sometimes, it was too late for entire countries.

**38.**

The party idled about in the throne room the next day, waiting for Niall to return. He had gone off to meet with the War Council, as promised.

Morag paced back and forth nervously, agitation written all over her. She had wanted to go with Niall, but he had insisted that he go to face those butchers alone. "Don't forget," he had murmured, taking her hand, "You told me what Roderich said. They had initially planned on hanging you for treason. I don't think they'd have the gall to try it while I was still alive, but...let me speak to them. Let me come to an understanding with them first."

Morag had still wanted to go. The thought of her brother being in a room alone with those butchers who had tried to kill him had made her sick. Who was to say they wouldn't try again? But Niall had convinced her – they had, after all, announced on the radio that the Emperor had survived the attack. It would look suspicious if they had told everyone that, and then he suddenly died.

Finally, after hours, the throne room doors swung open. Niall stood behind it, a haunted, exhausted look in his eyes. Everyone watched, not speaking, as he silently walked through the room, then collapsed upon the throne, his head in his hands.

Morag came to his side quickly, kneeling down beside him. "How did it go?" she asked quietly.

Niall didn't lift his head from his hands. "Mor Ardain," he said quietly, "Will, this afternoon, announce official plans to invade the Urayan capital."

"No!" Rex cried. All eyes turned toward him as he strode toward the throne. Niall lifted his head to stare at him, wearily, as he approached. "You...you're the Emperor. You have to stop this. You have to let people know the truth, and stop this!"

"And what do you suppose would happen, if I did?" Niall asked quietly. When Rex didn't respond, he continued. "Well. I can tell you. They'd try to kill me, and then the War Council would assume command, and the invasion would happen anyway. Only I wouldn't be in control to reign in their viciousness. Oh...maybe I could escape their assassination attempts. Flee to the desert, and do my best to let people know what actually happened yesterday. And if people listened, it would tear my country apart in civil war." 

"So you're just...going to let them have their war?" Rex's head filled with memories of Fonsa Myma. He tried not to imagine it burning, torn apart by bombs, the bodies of its citizens littering the streets.

"An announcement itself is not an invasion," Niall replied. "There are...some ways yet to delay them. And perhaps an official announcement might even make Uraya more willing to come to the negotiating table." Then he looked down at his hands, sighing. "Though...I must be honest with myself. I doubt any concession from Uraya will satisfy what remains of the Senate. I must be honest. I no longer have much hope the invasion can be stopped." He looked up, and the despair on his face broke Morag's heart. "I'm so sorry."

"Happy, Sylvie?" Morag called out across the throne room, her eyes never leaving her brother's face. "Happy? You are getting your damn war."

Sylvie merely stared down at her boots, saying nothing, her face buried in the shadows of her cap.

"I...Architect." Rex drew back, if coming under a sudden realization. "So many people are going to die."

"And I thought my country had some real nutjobs in government," Zeke muttered, glancing around at the bloodstains that still tarnished the polished gold of the throne room. "This…this is sick."

"Emperor," Sylvie said, suddenly looking up, her eyes full of steely determination. "I still have...many contacts, many resources within the Brionac party. Let me use them for you. As far as Brionac knows, I'm still loyal. I can be your spy for you within the party itself. Perhaps...I can dig up something that can...delay...or stop this war."

Niall looked at her, sadly. "A sudden change of heart?"

"I...still think that Mor Ardain is the best hope for the world. And if that means a war is necessary, so be it." Her haunted eyes scanned the throne room, lingering on the bloodstains. "But not under the leadership of these...snakes. I would rather have the wrong peace, under your rule, than the right war, under the command of those...rabid dogs."

"An insult to dogs, frankly," Dromarch muttered.

"I would...appreciate your assistance, Senator," Niall mused. "But...you realize what you are saying, yes? I can assure you….the military leadership of Brionac is done with debate and politics. If they find out you are spying on them, they will kill you."

Sylvie drew herself up, puffing out her chest. "Let them try. I'm the daughter of an old tank commander. My dad taught me how to play rough."

"So be it." Niall's gaze drifted to the rest of the party. "I...am so sorry that you got dragged into Mor Ardain's darkest hour. But it seems the bloodshed is over. You are safe to return to your diplomatic suites, if you wish. If you'd feel more comfortable, I can pay for your lodgings in the city, outside the palace."

"That...might be a good idea," Malos spoke up. He crossed his arms, staring down Sylvie. "After all, like you said, it sure seems like Brionac is done playing around. If Sylvie here figured out I was the Aegis, other people might be suspicious as well. And I don't think they'd be shy about trying to take me."

"I didn't tell anyone about my suspicions," Sylvie said, quietly. "But...you may be right. It might be best for you to leave the palace."

"I will have it arranged for you to stay in the finest inn in Alba Cavanich," Niall murmured. "A fine one, with outdoor hot springs. I believe you know the one I'm talking of, Brighid?"

The blade nodded. "I'll see them safely there, your majesty," she replied.

Morag lingered by her brother's side as Brighid led the party out of the throne room. "Rex, Malos," Niall called, before they could leave. "Might I have a word with you?"

Nia glanced behind her, as she saw Rex linger by the throne room door, then turn around. She glanced at Brighid, leading the retreating forms of Zeke, Pandy, Dromarch, Tora, and Poppi down the hallway. She bit her lip, then hid behind the throne room door, listening to the conversation within.

"I...assume you are going to leave soon, to continue your mission to Elysium," Niall said quietly, as Rex and Malos approached and stood before him.

Rex rubbed the back of his head. "Well...yeah. That's the plan. I...I wish I could stay and help."

Niall smiled grimly. "It's...alright. You've already done so much. It's all politics from this point on, and I think your talent is better spent elsewhere." He was quiet for a moment, looking down at the floor. "When I...when I was shot," he murmured quietly, "I...saw a vision of Elysium. A beautiful land of plenty. All the world's peoples living side by side, with more than enough room to spare. Only..." he shook his head, bitterly. "Only there were no Ardainians there." And here, he looked up at Malos, questioningly. "What...do you suppose it means? Are we not worthy of the peace of Elysium? Are we…."

Malos barked a laugh. "There's nothing saying that only the 'worthy' can set foot on Elysium, or whatever. Anyone can. What you do with it is up to you."

Niall stared at him, and Malos actually began to find the desperation in his eyes slightly unnerving. "I...think, more and more, that Elysium really is the only hope for this world," the Emperor said.

Morag reached out, putting a cool palm on her brother's forehead to check for fever. He had only recently been healed, after all. Maybe the stress and the healing was getting to him.

Niall merely laughed at her, ruefully. "I'm not sick," he said, taking her hand, giving her an innocent smile. "I...just have a bird's eye view of the world, as Emperor. Brionac thinks they can keep the world running for a few centuries more, if only they can conquer it first. I'm not so convinced. I think they're likely to do so much damage in their conquest that they'll just accelerate matters. I know precisely how much industrial capacity, agricultural capacity the world has, Morag. Better than anyone. We...are running out. Mass starvation will become a norm within my generation, unless things change."

Rex's eyes widened. "Architect, really? I...thought things were bad. It's why I wanted to go to Elysium. But I never thought things were _that _bad."

Niall nodded. "Yes. They are." And suddenly he rose from his throne, his eyes burning brightly, stepping forward to face Rex. "That's why I wanted to tell you how important your mission was. The world needs Elysium, Rex. Your mission cannot fail. And that's why….I want Morag to go with you."

Morag's eyes widened, and she leapt to her feet. "Niall, no. You...need my protection more than ever."

Niall shook his head sadly. "You...cannot protect me now, sister. If they wanted to kill me, they'd just kill you too. And I want you at Rex's side, to help him make his way to Elysium." He glanced up at Malos, who gazed down at him impassively. "Even if the Aegis says anyone can make their way there….I want you to prove Ardainians _deserve _to be there." His eyes drifted downward, across the throne room, and he slowly made his way to his desk. Upon it lay Aegaeon's core crystal, dull and grey, not yet active. "And...I'd like you to take Aegaeon with you, to help you." He laughed, quietly. "The poor man never could stand being cooped up in the palace. He'd be much happier in the field, with you."

"Niall, what are you saying," Morag snapped, trying to be harsh, but sadness sneaking into her voice all the same. "You'll be...all alone with these...butchers. You'll have no one by your side to protect you..."

"Aegaeon couldn't do it alone, anyway." Niall shook his head as he plucked up the core crystal and turned around to hand it to her. "It's better if I just accept reality, rather than dragging him down with me." He smiled wanly at her. "Please, just take him. Don't make me order you to do it."

"You..." Morag reached out, and reluctantly took the core crystal from him, shaking her head.

Niall turned back to Rex. "I know...that it must seem like an enormous burden. But the world really is counting on you, Rex."

Rex's eyes were wide as he took the Emperor's hand to shake it. Despite this, he did his best to sound confident, certain of himself. "I...started out on this journey to find Elysium, to help everyone," he said. "I won't let everyone down."

Behind the throne room door, Nia held a hand to her chest, wincing to herself. Then her eyes widened, and she dashed down the hallway as Malos and Rex made their way out of the room.

Morag was the only one left in the throne room with Niall now. She was gazing into Aegaeon's core crystal. The thought of her brother left, all alone, with the men who tried to kill him surrounding him every day...it was too much to bear. She turned around to protest.

But the words died in her mouth. Niall was standing before the throne, his shoulders shaking, one hand pressed to his face as tears flowed down it, unstoppable. "I failed them, Morag," he said, drawing in an unsteady breath. He looked at her with tear-stained eyes, still filled with so much innocence, still bright and full of life. "I failed them. I failed my people."

Morag gently wrapped her arms around his frail, shaking form as he staggered, drawing him in close, whispering reassurance into his ear as he collapsed into her.

**39.**

Morag lifted a coffee cup to her lips, blowing softly on the hot liquid.

It had been only a couple of days ago that Niall had stood before what remained of the Senate, the pack of jackals that had survived the bloody coup, and announced with a weary voice the commencement of plans to invade the Urayan capital, to uproarious applause. Not, Morag supposed, that the Senate really mattered anymore. If they tried to stop it in any way, the military officers in the Brionac command would probably have had them killed too. In a way, in one fell stroke, they had made Mor Ardain's republican traditions obsolete. The sick part was that it didn't even matter. The Senate was a dog and pony show that would have given them exactly what they wanted anyway.

But as Niall said, the announcement of an invasion was not an invasion itself, not yet. There were preparations to be made. Inspections to be done. That was why Morag was sitting here, now, in this coffee house in Alba Cavanich, awaiting the man who would be conducting the inspection of forces and delivering the assessment report to the Senate. She had rented a private room, so that they could be given some privacy. And she had been sure to ensure that no spying eyes could see them here.

The door slowly opened, and Padraigh entered. General Padraigh, now, recently promoted after his victory over the Urayan forces besieging Torigoth. As the commanding officer with the most experience fighting the Urayans, he had been selected to conduct an assessment of the invasion army, to evaluate their readiness. He looked….tired. Worn down. An ugly new scar ran down the side of his face, to the bottom of his chin. His black hair now had a few flecks of silver in it. It was stunning, what hard war could do to someone in a short period of time.

He sat down across from her, setting a coffee cup on the table between them. Then he looked up, glancing at her with steely blue eyes, the softness that had been in them the last time she saw him driven out by battle. By seeing too many dead men. But when he spoke his voice was still warm. "Morag," he said quietly. "Good to see you, in these dark times."

Morag placed her cup down with a quiet clink. "You as well, Padraigh. I hear you and your men...had a hard time of it in the mountains outside Torigoth."

Padraigh sighed, shaking his head. "The Urayans fought like it was the end of the world. They're far more wily than the high command gives them credit for. Though I have to say, I'm surprised that they managed to attack the palace. We underestimate them at our peril."

Morag bit her tongue. She...wanted to think she could trust Padraigh. Trust to tell him the truth. But if she could convince him without risking letting him know what had actually happened….

"I suppose," Padraigh said, sipping his coffee, raising an eyebrow at her, "that this is more than a simple social call."

Morag sighed. Padraigh hadn't risen through the ranks by being an idiot. She should have known that he'd come into this being suspicious about what was actually going on. She stirred her coffee idly with a small spoon, then glanced up at him. "Padraigh," she said, suddenly, her voice curious. "What do you think of this war?"

"It's not my job to steer the ship of State. I am here to serve the Emperor and the Senate," Padraigh replied dismissively.

"We're not talking about your job, here. I want to know your personal opinion. It's just us, here. I'm not speaking as Inquisitor. I want to know, as your friend."

Padraigh sighed, setting his coffee down, drawing a hand across his face, tormented eyes staring off into the distance. "You really want to know?" he said, quietly. "I think this war is idiocy. Madness. Sickness. I've served a long time, and I've never seen anything as bloody as this war. So many men dead. So many more, going to die. And for what…? So we can march into the middle of a peaceful country that never did us any harm, before we began this war? Burn its cities to ash? Gormott, I could understand, we needed the resources. But do we even really need Uraya's resources…?" He stopped his rambling, glancing up at her. "Ah. I apologize. I know they did try to kill your brother. There's no stopping it now, then."

Morag ignored this. She tried to focus on the hope rising in her heart. "I feel the same way," she replied quietly. "So does Niall. Even now, he remains dedicated to the idea of peace. But the Senate...they've been...pressuring him. He needs time, more time for negotiations."

"Well," Padraigh replied bluntly, "It seems time is up."

"It doesn't have to be."

Padraigh was very, very quiet and still. He stared at her with those hard, piercing blue eyes. "What are you saying?"

"You are the Inspector General," Morag said calmly, folding her hands into each other, crossing her legs. "You're the one evaluating whether or not the military is prepared for an invasion of Fonsa Myma. Stall them. Insist on additional training. Do something to give my brother a bit more time."

Padraigh didn't reply for a long time. "What you're saying," he said finally, "is you want me to lie."

"If you think that's necessary."

Padraigh rose from his chair, his black military trenchcoat sweeping around him as he faced a wall, his hands clasped behind his back. "Morag," he said quietly, "What you're talking of is political interference of one interested party in military matters. It's dereliction of duty and possible treason. You do know that?"

"You're one of the only people who might be able stop this war now. You said it yourself, this war-" Morag began.

She was interrupted by Padraigh spinning on her furiously, his eyes flashing. "Damn it, Morag, my opinion on this war _doesn't matter. _It's not my place to be making those sorts of decisions. It's the will of the Senate that this war proceed. I don't just get to unilaterally decide to stop it based on my personal feelings, that's _corruption. _How, how could you ask this of me?" And now, real pain settled into his eyes, and Morag winced. "I thought we were friends."

"You know this war is wrong. You know it, I know it, damn it, this is bigger than the Senate," she snapped at him, forging forward through the look of hurt he gave her. "It has to stop. All my brother wants is a bit more time..." but Padraigh was shaking his head.

"I can't. I can't, Morag, you know I can't. I won't lie. As much as I might disagree, I have to accept the judgment of the Imperial Government. It's not my place to make these decisions. I have to have faith in the wisdom of the political leadership of the Empire. I am just a small part in the machine. If each gear decided to spin at its own pace because of its own personal feelings, things would never work. I have to have faith in these decisions made through the deliberative political process. I'm sorry." He swept up his cap from where he had sat it on the table, placing it on his head. "I...since you're a friend, I won't report this. But..."

"Deliberative political process," Morag muttered, getting to her feet. "Deliberative political process. Damn it! Padraigh, it wasn't the Urayans who tried to kill my brother. It wasn't the Urayans who attacked the capital. It was Brionac! I was there, I saw those...jackals, try to murder him!"

"What…?" Padraigh said, freezing in shock, his eyes wide. "I...but...why are they still..."

"You don't know what happened here. It was a damn coup. A coup where they just missed killing the Emperor himself. There's your damn 'deliberative political process.'" She shook her head, grabbing his arm. "Padraigh, please. I know...in normal circumstances, your sense of honor would be the right thing to have. But these aren't normal circumstances. You say you need to have faith in the political leadership. I'm telling you the political leadership is rotting from within. I am _telling you _it's broken. It's gone wrong. It's all gone wrong. What remains of your leadership is a collection of wolves and butchers. You need to listen to what your heart tells you about this war. We're the only ones left who can stop these lunatics from getting what they want."

And for a moment, she felt the hope in her heart rising as Padraigh looked around uncertainly. But suddenly his face hardened, and he turned his gaze back to her. "I'm sorry," he said. "But whatever the mechanisms of politics, it's simply not my place to make that decision. If Brionac really did attack the capital, you should have them hanged for treason."

"I would if I could. There's no one left to knot the nooses." She withdrew her hand as Padraigh yanked his arm out of it. "Padraigh, please-"

"No," he said simply, not looking at her. "It isn't my place. I won't lie, commit treason or give into corruption for you, Morag. I...if what you say is true, I don't blame you for asking me. But I will not forsake honor."

Morag collapsed into her chair. She chuckled to herself, as she looked at Padraigh in despair. Honor. For honor's sake, Padraigh was going to help Brionac open the gates of hell. All for honor. The thing Mor Ardain had drilled into all its citizens. Honor. Honor. All for honor. She couldn't blame Padraigh. She truly couldn't. This was what he had been taught was the right thing to do from the moment he was born. Disregard personal feelings. You have your duty, and you must execute. For honor. Even Mor Ardain's virtues were being turned against her.

"Morag, I'm sorry," Padraigh said simply, when she didn't answer. Then he shrugged, and left, quietly closing the door behind him.

"All for honor," Morag murmured to herself. "All for sacred honor."

**40.**

It was later that week, after the official announcement of the invasion, that the War Council declared that there would be a military parade, 'To show resolution in the face of the Urayan threat.'

Though Morag had accepted that she would be traveling with Rex when he left, she wanted to remain by her brother's side for a while. To show the butchers of Brionac that she wasn't afraid of them. And so she found herself standing next to Niall, on a high podium, overlooking the streets of Alba Cavanich, as crowds thronged around the parade path. On their left and right, on lower podiums, sat the eight commanders of the War Council. Nelson was there, and Maclair too: All grim men, in black leather trenchcoats, several of them adorned with the silver skulls of Brionac on their caps. All around them, enormous red banners and flags fluttered, adorned with the golden crest of Mor Ardain. Red confetti fluttered through the air, as thick as the smoke pouring from the countless factories of the city, reminding Morag of nothing more than blood.

Suddenly, with the heavy pounding of drums, and the blare of triumphant trumpets, broadcast through loudspeakers lining the streets, the parade began. The crowd roared, the shouts blending into each other, becoming the cry of some enormous beast, as column after column of Ardainian soldier marched past, the earth trembling under the coordinated tramp of their feet, all turning as one to salute Niall as they marched past.

Morag glanced down at her brother. He was doing his best to present a calm, collected face to the soldiers and the crowd, waving serenely at the marching soldiers. But Morag could see his hand trembling as he placed it back down on his leg.

It was...understandable why. Even Morag found herself shocked by the intensity of the crowds. They were screaming fury, roaring for victory, roaring for revenge, their cries blending with the endless beats of the drums, the blaring trumpets, creating an awful war song. It was an awful throbbing, a rhythmic din that sank into her bones, the beating heart of Mor Ardain coursing with horrifying intensity and energy.

She turned her gaze to the side, at the War Council seated below her. Even they seemed taken aback by the scene. They kept their discipline most of the time, presenting nothing but steely gazes to the crowds and the soldiers most of the time. But every once in a while, she caught one of them looking around, glancing nervously at each other, looking down at the roaring crowds with wide, shocked eyes. Fools. Bloody-minded fools. They had toyed with this fire burning in the heart of Mor Ardain, they had stoked it, they had done all they could to bring the worst out of her once-beautiful country, to turn the Empire to ugliness, and now they had the audacity, the gall, to be shocked by the result?

Her eagle eyes followed the direction of their nervous glances. The War Council was watching, mostly, the officers marching in front of their battalions, the colonels and majors and other mid-grade officers. She pondered over this for a moment. And then, suddenly, it dawned on her.

The War Council was afraid too. Afraid that if they didn't push for this war, the officers below them would rise up and strike them down for their weakness. There was no exonerating them. They certainly wanted the war themselves. But they were driven as far as they were, as bloodily as they were, because they feared the men beneath them.

And it didn't end there. As the endless parade continued, as soldiers marched past, great, grinding tanks roared by, as the sky screamed with the sound of Titan warships soaring overhead, she kept her eyes on the officers marching past. _And they were afraid too. _When they were not looking straight ahead, their faces blank, they occasionally looked back towards the men they led, the soldiers themselves, the ones that would be fighting and dying in the war. And there was no doubt about it. It was fear in their faces that Morag saw. They feared appearing weak in front of their soldiers, afraid that if they did not push for as much conquest as possible that they'd look soft, vulnerable.

And even the soldiers themselves – the young men, carrying rifles, so damn young, and so many of them doomed to die – when they broke discipline, it was the crowds themselves they stared at with fear, the citizens of Alba Cavanich screaming for revenge, crying up to the heavens themselves for the soldiers to deliver death.

And the crowds – the crowds watched everyone, and were afraid of them all.

Morag closed her eyes. This...this was what Cole had seen. This was why, even if the War Council were to all drop dead tomorrow, nothing would change. This was what her brother was fighting against. The fear that drove everyone in a suicidal, mad circle, pushing everyone to further and further extremes, damning them all. And...it had been going on for a long, long time, hadn't it? Ardainian citizens...for generations, had lived entire lives with this fear driving them. And that was what fueled the Clockwork Demon. It wasn't any one man, or even any one political party. It was this fear, this fear that had been with Mor Ardain for centuries. This fear that was now, before their eyes, reaching a crescendo, a peak, this fear that was going to drive them to hell.

Around her, the roars of the crowd, the throbbing, pounding percussion of the war drums, the blaring of the trumpets, blended together into a steady, endless rhythm, and Morag imagined it was the ticking of some enormous, monolithic gear, until in her mind arose a figure, a giant, a colossus of a billion ticking gears, belching flame and smoke, rising from the debris, the shattered lives of all Mor Ardain's wars, flame-blackened iron, eyes of roaring fire, growing like a tumor on her beloved country, fed by centuries of violence and fear, growing not despite Mor Ardain's virtues, but precisely because of them: perverting their notion of progress, their sense of loyalty, their valor in battle, rising into the sky, blotting out the sun, some awful mechanism of all their failures and loss, and it turned to her with a smile that was a million torn pieces of metal, flame dripping from its teeth, and said, with a voice like a thousand explosions, like tanks grinding over skulls: _I win, Morag. It's over. I win._

And as Morag looked around her, at her brother, so afraid, at the War Council, at the officers and the soldiers and the crowds, all so full of fear, all hiding it, all too afraid to admit weakness to stop her beloved country from being driven to madness, she finally understood. She understood how other countries saw Mor Ardain. She understood why Vandham, as brave as he had been, even Vandham who spat in the face of death itself, had been afraid of the Empire. Mythra was an individual madness, but here was a sickness that had possessed an entire country, and where an individual's insanity might be cured, there was very little to stop a madness that caught on like wildfire, spreading from person to person, burning through the centuries, until it was finally an enormous funeral pyre for the world.

She finally understood. She understood the Clockwork Demon.

**41.**

The inn the party stayed at, after leaving the palace, was a grand one, much larger than any they had stayed in before, built into a large, squat multi-story building, with upwards of hundreds of rooms. The innkeeper had greeted them with a sour face. It wasn't difficult to see why: with the war, and the condemnations of Mor Ardain from other nations, tourism to the Empire had plummeted. Not that Mor Ardain, even in the best of times, was much of a place for tourism, with its harsh desert environments. But at the very least, being at the heart of the Empire seemed to, usually, ensure a lot of traveling businessmen. Not so much anymore. The countless rooms lay mostly empty, many of them not even being locked – it seemed the innkeeper had to lay off a lot of the maintenance and security staff. It was almost haunting, in a way, the long, endless rows of mostly empty rooms, quiet and foreboding. With the lack of demand, they had easily been able to afford an individual room for everyone.

The city itself, in their days there, seemed quiet as well. Though there was the rally, the military parade that Morag had attended, which had drawn furious crowds...the hustle and bustle of the city that Nia had formerly experienced, when she went shopping with Brighid, was gone. Surprisingly few people were talking about the attack on the palace, though the official line was that Urayans had attacked. Armed groups of citizens, or soldiers – it was hard to tell which – dressed in Brionac regalia would occasionally patrol the streets, loudly proclaiming their impending victory and revenge on Uraya. And they'd draw murmured agreements, sometimes. But many other times, people cast their eyes away, glancing nervously around. It was as if many people knew that something wasn't quite right with the official story. Rex had tried talking to some of these people, tried asking them if they really believed that the Urayans had attacked the palace, but all he had gotten in return were frightened stares, people muttering that they just wanted to keep their heads down. Finally Malos had pulled him aside and snapped at him to keep his mouth shut, unless he wanted to draw attention to them and get them killed.

"Don't forget all those bodies lined up in the imperial square," he had said, as Rex glared defiantly up at him. "Mor Ardain is _not a free country. _These people murdered nobles, Senators and almost an Emperor to get their way. They will absolutely murder you, and not think twice about it."

Rex, however, just couldn't stand it. He was no fool. He had lived places where the wrong word might start a fight, might land you in trouble, might even get you kicked out. But never before had he ever lived anywhere where the wrong word might get you killed. And the awful injustice of it all burned him. It hung over the city, like an oppressive pall, muting everything. Such a monumental lie, all so that a gang of murderers could fulfill their thirst for blood. He understood Niall's concern, that to tell the truth would lead to terrible consequences – but that just made it even worse. He wasn't a child. He knew that power could attract the wicked, the ambitious, the cruel. He had, after all, lived beneath Bana's rule over Goldmouth for quite some time. But this...this was so beyond the pale. Bana's was an understandable, petty evil. This was wickedness beyond anything he could have imagined. And worst of all, _they had won. _Despite it all, despite them knowing exactly what they had done, Brionac had still won. And so he spent much of his time in his room, brooding.

Nia watched him with curious, sharp eyes, as he stalked the hallways of the hotel, a his face like a thundercloud. She thought she understood. Mor Ardain...something had gone rotten in it. She wasn't Ardainian, and Morag wasn't around, but she could see from watching Brighid, from looking at the faces of the Ardainians in the streets...it had all gone wrong. And soon, they'd be leaving.

She awoke one morning, yawning as she made her way downstairs, Dromarch padding silently at her side, to the inn's grand dining room. As with the rest of the inn,, always mostly empty, and the innkeeper had long since given up on setting out a proper breakfast, instead setting out a meager basket of buns to appease the few guests they had.

Nia grabbed one of this, sniffing it dubiously, before biting into it with a grimace. It was stale, but still edible. She glanced around. Zeke and Pandy were sitting at a table, discussing things with a small, but very pretty woman, dressed in long, flowing white robes, a golden tiara in her long brown hair, golden ribbons woven around her. She looked serene, cheerful. In fact, she had an incredibly warm, almost hypnotic presence. Nia found herself drawn to her, drawn to sitting down next to Zeke and Pandy, despite the fact that normally she found Zeke and his flirting with Pandoria to be kind of annoying. Her eyes widened as she sat down and noticed a blade core crystal embedded in the woman's chest. Although...it seemed strange. Smaller than most, a carved triangle of glowing blue.

Zeke raised an eyebrow at her as she sat down. "Well, good morning, Nia. Surprised to see you up so early. I figured you'd be a late sleeper. What with, you know, the cat thing and all."

"I'm Gormotti, not a cat," Nia snapped back at him, as she leaned back and kicked her boots up on a nearby chair. "What are you still doing, following us around anyway?"

Zeke laughed far too uproariously for it to be genuine. "Well, I am an ambassador from Indol, specifically here to keep an eye on the Aegis. Don't you remember?"

Suddenly, Nia felt her pulse quicken. Indol? They were the ones who had imprisoned her, before Jin had rescued her. And to be honest, she didn't remember – in the chaos of the night the Tirkin had attacked, she had forgotten Zeke's introduction. She now felt much more nervous about Pandoria's suspicion of what she had done in the throne room. "Ah, no, I suppose I forgot," she muttered, trying to play it cool.

Unfortunately for her, the woman across from her seemed like she could sense her nervousness. "Don't worry," she said, her soft laugh like the tinkling of tiny bells. "I don't know what...Zeke here said to you. But I'm an official envoy of the Praetorium as well. I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Fan la Norne."

"The Goddess of Indol," Zeke said dramatically. "Fan, this is Nia. One of the...very close friends of the Driver of the Aegis." He smirked at her, and Nia threw her biscuit at his head.

Fan la Norne laughed again. "Goddess is such an extravagant title. I'm just a blade, like Pandy here." She gave Nia a warm, comforting smile. "I know you must have run into...a lot of trouble, during your journeys so far. The Praetor sent me to extend an invitation to the Driver and the Aegis to come to the Praetorium."

Nia wasn't sure what to think. She knew that they had planned on going to Indol, of course. She thought she would be able to get away with a change of clothes or something. After all, it had been a while ago since she had captured, and Jin...Jin had murdered the entire Indolian platoon hunting her. And she had heard nothing about Indol hunting her since. But now, just sitting across from three people she knew were from Indol themselves….well, she supposed if Indol honestly was still hunting her, Zeke, Pandy or Fan la Norne might have known her face. But still, she felt anxiety and the urge to run building within her. She opened her mouth to reply, but was suddenly interrupted.

"Haze…?"

The group turned around to stare. There, in the doorway of the dining hall, was Malos, Rex at his side, looking uncharacteristically surprised. "It really is you."

Rex squinted up at the Aegis. "What, Malos, you know this woman?"

Malos walked forward, the beginnings of what looked to be a genuine smile on his face. It almost looked strange to Nia, seeing him smile without a hint of mockery or cruelty. "I do. She...fought against Mythra, during the Aegis War..."

Fan la Norne rose, bowing her head to the Dark Aegis as he approached. "Ah, just the man I was looking for," she murmured. "The...Praetor did tell me that you might remember me by a different name. I am Fan la Norne." 

Malos stopped approaching, a look of confusion crossing his face. "Fan la Norne…?" he asked, quietly. "I mean, I suppose you wouldn't remember who I was, or the Aegis War, after getting a new driver. But why do you call yourself that?" His eyes went to the core crystal in her chest, and lingered there for a few moments.

"The Praetor can answer all your questions," Fan la Norne answered, approaching Malos with a broad smile on her face. "I am here on his behalf to extend an invitation to the Aegis and his Driver to the Prateorium in Indol." She glanced down at Rex, who was staring up at her with something like awe. "I suppose you must be his Driver. Zeke's told me about you, Rex."

"Ah, yeah," Rex said, rubbing the back of his head and blushing, glancing away from her smiling face. "That's me. I guess."

"Don't worry. Zeke's had nothing but good things to say. He told me about how you saved your friend, and helped defend the Emperor against...the...unpleasantness a few days back." She gave him a beaming smile, and Rex blushed even more furiously. "It's good to know that the Aegis is in the hands of someone so kind-hearted."

Nia watched as Malos stared at Fan la Norne intently, looking almost...sad. Suddenly, she found herself feeling bad for him, despite everything. Every friend he had ever made was dead, or didn't remember him, or actively wanted to kill him. Malos was very good at seeming cavalier about it all, but occasionally small cracks in his armor showed, as it was now, as he looked at Fan with forlorn sorrow, an expression that seemed almost alien on his face. Suddenly he shook his head, and his usual mocking smirk reappeared. "Well. We were planning on going to Indol anyway."

"I have a ship awaiting us in the Ardainian docks. We can leave any time you are ready." Fan la Norne tilted her head as she smiled up at him, and Malos looked away.

"Oh, but wait a minute," Rex said, recovering from his bashfulness, glancing up at Fan with sharp eyes. "We were going to stop in Leftheria, first. I have a, ah, friend I wanted to meet in Fonsett. We promised him."

"That's perfectly fine." Fan spread her arms, in a calming gesture. "It's an invitation to the Praetorium, not a demand. Whenever is most convenient for you. The Praetor has all the time in the world."

"The Praetor," Malos muttered. He glanced towards Fan, scratching his chin. "You're talking about Amalthus?" Fan nodded serenely.

"What's….what's Amalthus like?" Nia asked suddenly, leaning forward, her eyes flashing. She had never heard much about the leader of the Praetorium herself. She was vaguely aware of him as a quasi-mythic figure, the mortal who dared to climb the World Tree without even a blade at his side, who had unleashed the horror of the Aegis war. It seemed odd that such a man would still be alive after all this time, but he was Indoline, and they lived long lives.

Fan smiled softly to herself. "Well, I may be biased, since he is my driver," she murmured. "But Amalthus...is a kind and wise man. And humble. He freely admits that he made...many mistakes in his youth, that he bore a great anger towards the Architect. But perhaps it is age that has tamed him, calmed him." Suddenly, her face grew troubled, sad. "He does have...a great sorrow within him. And he does...keep others at a distance. Even me. I…." suddenly she glanced up, blushing. "Oh, but listen to me ramble on!" she said, laughing that charming laugh of hers once more. "The Praetor is a great man. And a fellow driver of the Aegis. He very much looks forward to meeting you for that, Rex. You have something in common that few people in history have. Besides you, only Addam."

Rex's eyes widened. To think that someone as powerful as the Praetor might personally know of him, be interested in meeting him….it was mind boggling. A far cry from the lowly salvager he had been not so long ago. "I guess it is a pretty exclusive club, huh," he mused.

"It's settled then, isn't it," Zeke yelled suddenly, slamming his fist into the table. "A quick stroll through Leftheria first, and then it's off to the Praetorium."

"You talk like you're coming along." Nia crossed her arms, glaring at him.

"Well, of course. Why wouldn't I? It's my job. And I should make my way back to the Praetorium myself." Zeke kicked back his feet and grinned. "Plus, the beaches in Leftheria are the best in the world! How could I miss an opportunity to check those out."

Nia glanced back and forth between Fan and Zeke. "Hard to believe you both work for the same man."

Fan la Norne glanced towards Zeke, giving a sly smirk. "The Praetor believes there's a...correct tool for every job. Zeke and Pandy are...a very…unusual pair of tools."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean, Fan?" Pandy asked, glaring at her from behind her large glasses. "Unusual? I-"

Nia tuned out as Zeke and Pandy began protesting, and Malos sat next to Fan to question her about the location of the ship and when they could leave. Her eyes were on Rex. He had come down to the dining room, but hadn't eaten. Instead, distracted, he was staring out the windows, out into the gray streets of Alba Cavanich, hollow circles beneath his eyes. Sighing, he left without picking up any of the bread at the table, going back to brood in his room.

"Right, that does it," Nia muttered to herself.

**42.**

Nia stood in her room, looking at herself in the mirror, smiling happily to herself.

She was wearing the dress she had attended the ball with, the one patterned in the style of autumn leaves, Brighid's core-concealing knot tied around her chest. She hadn't originally planned on taking it, but Brighid had insisted that she take it when they packed up and left the palace. "It looks so good on you," the older blade had said. "And besides, it will be out of fashion in Mor Ardain in a few months." Nia had played it cool at the time, politely thanking her, but the truth was she was ecstatic. The dress actually did look very good, and it had grown on her. It was really the first fancy dress she had ever liked.

"Nia look very pretty."

Nia glanced behind her with mild irritation. Dromarch was lounging on her bed as usual, luxuriously licking one of his paws. But next to him sat Poppi, kicking her legs idly off the edge of the bed, smiling at Nia. It still felt odd to think of this new girl as Poppi. And though she had said she still had the same personality, she seemed somehow...less naive. More brazen. Although perhaps Poppi had matured while she was in her smaller form, and it just seemed more obvious now that she looked older. She had strolled into Nia's when Nia had accidentally left the door open after running down the hall to Brighid for her help with tying the knot on, declaring she was bored. "Tora off discussing engineering particulars with his dadapon," she had declared. "What Nia up to?" And now, she was watching with interest as Nia had straightened out her dress.

"Thanks. I guess." Nia put the crown of brambles on her head.

"What Nia getting all dressed up for?" Poppi asked, innocently.

"Oh, nothing really." Nia attempted to sound casual, idly glancing away back to the mirror.

"Poppi thinks Poppi knows," the robot girl said smugly.

"You don't know half of what you think," Nia snapped, and was about to continue when Pandy appeared in the doorway, chewing idly on an apple.

"Whoa, Nia, lookin' good," Pandy said, her mouth full. She stepped into the room, and Nia cursed under her breath. Why had she not closed the damn door? "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion, really," Nia replied, airily. "Just, you know. New dress. Wanted to see it and all. That's it, really."

"Nia planning on bringing Rex out to restaurant," Poppi said suddenly, and Nia sputtered. How the hell had she known?

"Oh really?" Pandy grinned. "I was kind of wondering if you two were, you know..."

"It's not like that," Nia snapped, turning back to the mirror, adjusting her headpiece. "Rex and I are friends, is all."

Pandy nudged Poppi, grinning still. "Oh? Just friends? I guess that's sort of a relief." She posed, putting a thoughtful finger to her mouth. "See, I think Rex is pretty cute myself."

Nia froze for a moment, then continued adjusting her dress. "Yeah, well, I suppose he isn't bad looking," she replied, her voice casual.

"Yeah, so it's a relief that he's available," Pandy continued, as Poppi looked up at her curiously. "I can ask him out myself."

Nia spun around, glaring at her. "You think you're clever, do you? You flirt so much with Zeke I know you're full of it. I know what you're trying to do, I'm not an idiot. But it's not going to work. Rex and I are friends, is all."

"Why Nia not just admit it? There nothing wrong with liking Rex bit more than a friend." Poppi piped up suddenly. Nia glance down at her, eyes widening. The robot girl had a gentleness to her voice that Nia hadn't heard from her before. "Poppi thinks Rex...very fond of you, too," Poppi continued. She shook her head. "Poppi not understand. Nia so brave most of the time. Why this such a big deal…?"

Nia looked at her for a few moments, blinking, struggling for words. Why was it such a big deal? What-

_You know why, _hissed the voice inside her, suddenly roaring forth with fury. It had been...quieter lately. But now it filled her head, echoing through her. _Never forget what a miserable failure you are. Never forget what happens to the people you love. You're only going to hurt him, fail him. Oh, can you imagine what the look on his face is going to be when he finds out the kind of bad person you actually are? You've already let it go too far. We've noticed the way he looks at us sometimes, oh yes. Makes your heart flutter a bit, does it? You greedy, selfish idiot. __And now __you're just going to make matters worse. Why can't you leave the poor boy alone? You know why, of course, because you don't care how much you hurt people as long as it makes you a little bit happy, you sick, broken thing. _

Nia slowly raised her hands to her head, closing her eyes, trying desperately to shut out the voice's endless savagery. Pandy and Poppi glanced at each other, taking a step forward in concern, as Dromarch sat up in the bed, staring at her, tail flicking. Finally, Nia's eyes fluttered open, and she looked down down at the ground. "I...just want to be happy for a little bit longer, before he finds out," she murmured softly to herself, too softly for them to hear.

"What's going on here?"

Nia looked up from the floor, suddenly, to the door, where Brighid stood with her arms crossed, looking severely around the room. "You two, why don't you give Nia some privacy," she said, her tone clipped.

"Aw, fine. C'mon Poppi, let's go to the hot springs," Pandy said, stretching out, her wiry tail waving back and forth.

"Can...Pandy even go into baths with that tail…?" Poppi asked, on their way out of the room.

"I mean, can you? Aren't you a robot…?"

Their voices trailed off into the distance as Brighid watched them walk down the hallway, her eyebrows arched. She turned back to Nia and gave her a small smile.

"Thanks, Brighid," Nia muttered. "Those two, so gossipy, I swear."

"It's nothing at all." Brighid lingered by the door for a moment, looking her up and down. "You look fantastic, Nia. Have fun." And then she disappeared down the hallway, humming to herself.

Nia sighed, then breathed in, heavily. She reached out, petting Dromarch, her blade letting out a loud, rumbling purr as he nuzzled his head against her hands. Her eyes drifted over to the bureau, where the stone Rex had given her back in Gormott, the rainbow rock, as he called it, lay sparkling in the sun. She smiled, squared her shoulders, and set out down the hallway, to Rex's room.

She knocked on his door, setting her hands on her hips as she heard him moving around inside. Finally he opened the door, his eyes widening, blushing a bit as he saw Nia standing there in her dress. It really did make her heart flutter a bit, Nia realized.

"Alright, Rex," she snapped, glaring at him, summoning her anger. He looked pale, a bit wan, dark circles beneath his eyes. He probably hadn't been sleeping much, in addition to not eating. And it made her _angry. _"Come on. You've been moping in there long enough, yeah?"

"Ah...hey Nia. I...well, yeah, I suppose I have," he replied, dragging a hand across his face. Then he looked down at her curiously. "What's with the dress?"

"You're gonna come to a restaurant with me," Nia said slyly. "Or did you forget already? You don't wanna experience the reputable Ardainian food? That palace stuff they fed us was rich people food. I wanna experience the true Ardainian cuisine."

Rex gave her a small smile, some of the twinkle returning to his eyes. "Yeah, alright. I'm up for that. I don't have much money though..."

"Don't worry about that, this one's on me. Go get those fancy clothes they gave you at the palace-"

"Hold on." Rex crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at her. "Do I really need fancy clothes?"

"Yes! I got reservations at a _nice _restaurant. This isn't Uraya, they'll expect you to dress up a bit."

"Didn't you just say that you wanted to taste real Ardainian cuisine? This sounds like more rich people food-"

Nia growled in irritation. "Rex. A girl is offering to pay for your dinner. Don't question a gift, yeah? Get your outfit!"

"Alright, alright," Rex said, laughing. It was good to see him laugh. At least he was easy to cheer up. "Gimme a sec, gotta get dressed."

He closed the door. Nia leaned back against the wall across from it, and wrapped her arms around herself. Slowly, a smile spread across her face, and she began giggling. She didn't know why. She just felt like laughing.

**43.**

Rex had appeared, back in the same outfit he had worn when escorting her to the ball, the stark, black Ardainian officer's outfit, with silver trim. He really did look pretty dashing in that.

Nia had led him down the stairs, out the inn's lobby. She had been hoping that no one would be there to see them. But of course, Malos had been there, lounging in a chair, reading a newspaper. He put it down, raising one eyebrow as he saw the two of them. He caught Nia's eye, gave a small smirk, but thankfully kept his silence, merely shaking his head at the two of them as he raised his newspaper again.

Nia's ears fluttered as they stepped out into the streets of Mor Ardain, and Rex instinctively drew her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, glancing suspiciously around the city streets. She opened her mouth to make fun, but for once thought better of it. It...was nice to know Rex felt protective of her. Although she didn't think the city streets were all that dangerous. She understood how Rex felt, he thought the city was wicked, so he assumed it was dangerous. He didn't understand that some of the most wicked places in the world were very, very peaceful indeed. Brionac wouldn't be gunning down people in the streets. Their strength came from the fact that they wouldn't need to. "This way, macho man," she murmured, wrapping an arm around him as well, pointing down one of the side streets, cobbled instead of paved. "It isn't far."

Rex glanced around as they traveled down the street. It was bustling with people as they passed by. Whereas the Ardainian citizens had been quiet, subdued these past few days, these seemed more cheerful. He watched as they set up colorful stalls, humming to himself as a nopon hung bright red balloons from the streetlamps. "Looks like they're setting up for something," he mused.

"Oh yeah. It's a street festival later tonight. Supposedly celebrating the founding of the Imperial dynasty."

Rex grimaced. "I wonder if any of them know just how close that dynasty came to ending just a few days ago. Would they still be celebrating today if it did?" He glanced down at her. "It's only thanks to you that it didn't, really."

Nia blushed, looking away, then got annoyed with herself for blushing. "It was nothing, nothing. That dumbass colonel didn't even have very good aim. I bet a good medic could have patched Niall up, too."

A jolt shot through her as Rex squeezed her fondly. "Come on, Nia. We all saw what happened. You bought me back from the edge, too. You're an amazing healer. Best damn one I've ever heard of."

"Shaddap, I said," Nia replied, poking him in his side. Rex laughed, carefree. As he did, Nia reached through the ether, examining the wound within him. It was still huge, ragged, feeling like something that should have him screaming in pain. Perhaps not as bad as it had been when it was fresh, though it was hard to tell if it was actually healing or if it was just her imagination. But again, Rex still seemed physically fine. She didn't _think _he was intentionally hiding any pain from her. What exactly was this wound doing to him? She sighed as they walked into a plaza, dominated by a central fountain, in the middle of which was a large statue of a severe-looking man in military uniform, his face hidden beneath a particularly gargantuan mustache, somewhat rotund– one of the former Emperors. The plaza was large, and seemed to be a central hub of the festival that was being set up, with hundreds of red balloons hanging from street lamps, from the fountains, dozens of stalls being constructed, and even a small stage being put together. She pointed to a building, ensconced in metal staircases leading up several floors, of black brick, its windows glowing with orange and yellow light. "That's the place, right there. Bassani's Butchery."

The restaurant was somewhat quiet, as they entered – perhaps many people were saving their appetites for the street festival's food. It was dark, as well. The light they had seen from the window was only from the entrance – the rest of the restaurant was lit by small flickering candles, barely able to fight off the shadow. The atmosphere it created was somewhat suspenseful. They were greeted by a small, demure, silent Ardainian waitress, who led them to a table for two, taking out a small notebook to record their orders. As they sat, she wordlessly uncorked a bottle of wine, placing it on the table between them, before walking off. Rex and Nia looked at this with wide eyes, then at each other.

"Ah yeah," Nia said. "I heard about this. Apparently Ardainians drink wine with a lot of their food. To ah….cover up the taste, supposedly."

Rex picked up the bottle, examining it. He was amused to see that a drawing of Niall's face actually decorated it. "From the Imperial Vineyards," he read, squinting at the label. "What vineyards! I didn't see any vineyards!"

"They're in Gormott," Nia replied. "Great big fields of them, planted after the Empire conquered them. It's a major business nowadays, actually. I hear the wine's pretty good." She arched an eyebrow at him. "You gonna have some or not?"

"Ah...yeah. Rule one of the salvager's code. Swim like a fish, and drink like one too!" Rex laughed, somewhat nervously, as he poured himself a glass of the wine. It was a deep, rich, purplish red.

"Oh yeah? Have you ever drank before? Aren't you a little young for that?"

"Have _you?"_ Rex shot back. "I mean, I've drank before. Never wine. But I've had a beer or two on a salvaging mission."

Nia smiled mischievously at him as she poured herself a glass. "Yeah, in Gormott it's pretty typical for parents to give their kids some wine when they're younger." Her eyes flashed at him as she raised the glass to her lips and took a sip, the wine settling into her, warming her blood. "I bet you're a total lightweight."

Rex glared at her, then defiantly took the glass, raised it, and down it all in one giant gulp.

"What the-pace yourself, you moron," Nia cried, as Rex swallowed, shook himself, and then poured another glass. "I still gotta get you back home responsibly."

"Oof," Rex said, as the wine hit his blood, warming him up immediately, a blush rising in his cheeks. "Wow. That's a bit harder than beer." He glanced across the table, where Nia was staring at him with mysterious, hooded eyes, yellow twinkling in the candlelight. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing," Nia murmured. She felt the wine in her blood, and suddenly felt a bit more daring. "It's just...how competitive you get...it's a bit cute, is all."

Rex crossed his arms. "Oh. Me, the competitive one. This coming from the lady who couldn't stop bragging about how her bear carvings won her the bet back in Uraya."

"You started that bet, you daft fool!"

"I'm pretty sure it was you-"

Their squabbling was interrupted by the waitress arriving with their order. Nia had ordered a chicken breast with a side of asparagus. It arrived slathered in cheese and red sauce. Rex had ordered a steak with a baked potato. It looked...very, very well cooked.

Nia poked at her chicken dubiously. There barely seemed to be any chicken at all beneath the sauce. Rex cut his steak, struggling with the tough meat, sniffed it, and took a tentative bite. "Blaugh! I can see why they cooked it so much," he said, wrinkling his nose as he chewed vigorously to work his way through the stringy meat. "That's downright unpleasant. I dunno if I really have the appetite for Ardainian cuisine."

"Oh, you're gonna eat it," Nia said, her voice dangerous. "I've seen you skipping your meals lately."

"Ah," Rex said.

"Boys, I swear. You think you're invincible." Nia popped an asparagus sprig into her mouth and chewed. "Oh, I don't need to take care of myself, I'm a big strong man, my body can take it! You abuse yourself and then wonder why you have so many aches and pains. Especially after the way you throw yourself into battle."

"Look, look, you're right," Rex said, holding up a hand to pause Nia's outburst. "I guess I just don't think of it much like that. I mean, if Malos can-"

"Malos is the bloody Aegis, you twit!" Nia snapped, jabbing a fork at him. "You're only human! Malos could probably stop eating altogether and not skip a beat. I swear, I'm gonna-"

"Alright! Alright, okay, I'll eat it," Rex said, laughing, as he cut a huge chunk from his steak and popped it in his mouth. "See? Eating. I…." he grimaced, then reached for his wine to wash down the food. "I can see why they have it here now," he muttered.

Finally, the two of them forced the meals down, declining politely but vigorously when the waitress arrived to ask them if they wanted dessert. "Well," Rex said, as Nia set some gold down for the bill, "Thanks for the dinner, Nia. I guess I can cross Ardainian off my list now, too."

"Oh, we're not done here yet," Nia said, smiling at him. She grabbed his hand, leading him out of the restaurant. "I never did get to see your new dance moves at the ball. Well, you're going to show me them now. I'm curious."

They opened the doors to the plaza, where during the course of their dinner, the sun had sunk low and the street festival had begun. The night air was warm, comfortable. Crowds lined the plaza, gathering around stalls, and the scent of grilling meat wafted through the air. The street lamps flickered on as they stepped outside, bathing the plaza in a gentle orange glow. But most of all, crowds gathered around the makeshift stage that had been set up in the center, next to the fountain. On top of the stage, an Ardainian in full military uniform played the fiddle, and the plaza was filled with people dancing with each other.

Nia glanced around, at the crowds. She could spot Zeke, and Pandy there, Tora and Poppi, there with Tora's dadapon – even Brighid, with Morag, who had finally come down from the palace to try and enjoy herself, apparently, all of them milling about in the crowds, checking out separate stalls, Morag silently watching the fiddler and the dancers. But she didn't care. Her blood ran wild with the wine, setting a flame inside her. "C'mon, I know you've been practicing," she said, turning to Rex, pulling him closer to her for no reason at all. Those laughing golden eyes of his filled her vision. Once more, she felt the wild urge to bite him.

Rex smiled, scratching his chin. "Yeah, alright. I'm game for that. Just don't be upset when it turns out I'm the better dancer now."

"Oh, you cocky bastard."

They pushed their way through the crowds, into the center of the square, among the other dancers. Just as they did, the fiddler ended his previous tune, and picked up a faster, energetic tune. Nia watched as Rex closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, steeling himself. And then his eyes snapped open, full of fire and determination, he gave her a mischievous grin, and grabbed her hand, placing his other hand on her hip.

"Okay, you got the basics," Nia began, and then gasped as Rex pulled her closer, pressing her body to his. She looked up at him with surprise. "R-Rex?"

And then he spun her, as the beat picked up, and she had to admit, whatever Brighid had taught him, it was working well. The world twirled around her, flashing lights and red balloons and laughing faces, as Rex led her, and her eyes grew wider and wider as they fixed on his laughing face, as he pulled her close, spun her away, even grabbing her by the waist to lift her at one point, and the wine flowed in her veins, and the fire in her built, and she realized that, for the first time in a long time, she felt carefree, she wasn't thinking about her past, about her secrets, about the voice in her head, her regrets, the uncertain future, she was here, her heart was here entirely in the moment as she twirled in Rex's arms, and it made her happy, and Rex looked happy as well, as if he was forgetting the terrible things he had seen, the things he had to do, laughing with her, blushing, and seeing him happy made her even more happy, knowing that he was happy because of her, and her heart soared and sang like it hadn't ever before.

When the song came to an end, Rex twirled her back into his arms, pressed against him once more. She looked at him, her eyes twinkling in the lamplight, not saying a word. There was a voice inside her, now, but it wasn't the usual one, not the one that berated and tormented her. This was another voice. _Kiss him, _it said, _kiss him, bite him then kiss him!_

"That," Nia said, panting, as the voice eventually calmed down, "was...really good. I have to admit."

Rex nodded sagely. "Yes," he whispered. "Rex wins."

Nia smacked him. "You don't win! That's one dance. So you can do one dance good, so what. You gotta show that you can do more than just one-"

"Rex wins," he repeated, a teasing smile on his face.

Over on the stage, another fiddler took over. This was another Ardainian officer, tall, thin, mournful-looking. He was joined by several other fiddlers, all officers as well. Together, they began playing a slower, lilting tune, somewhat sad, in some indescribable way.

Nia sighed, then lay her head on Rex's chest. "Let's see how you do with a slow dance," she murmured.

In the crowd, Morag watched the two dancing. Brighid had been the one to convince her to come down from the palace and join the festival, insisting that she needed the break. Her blade stood by her side, smirking slightly as she watched Rex and Nia. "Still a little sloppy, but I think I did a fairly good job showing Rex some dance moves," she said. "What do you think, lady Morag?"

But Morag only had eyes for the fiddlers on the stage. She recognized the tune they were playing. It was a modification of an Ardainian military funeral dirge. Their uniforms were all, conspicuously, devoid of any Brionac insignia. And they played with such mournful passion, such awful sweetness. As if they were playing a funeral dirge for Mor Ardain itself. Did they know…? Perhaps, even if they didn't, they could see the dark path Mor Ardain was on…

And suddenly, from the crowd, there emerged other fiddlers, getting up on stage, these ones dressed in the Brionac uniform, silver skulls gleaming in the darkness. And in reply to the mournful dirge, they began playing triumphant, lilting tones, furiously sawing away at their fiddles, grinning, eyes gleaming, like wolves in the night. And around them, other fiddlers spun, weaving together the triumphant liltings and the dirge.

This was Mor Ardain, Morag realized. The dancers spun around her, fireworks exploded in the sky, flooding everything with red light, and the music, all the triumph and madness, all the mournfulness, wove together into a cohesive melody, building louder and louder. As much as she might want to think of Brionac as some...corruption, of her country, they weren't really. They were Ardainian, they were a part of the melody that was her Empire. They might be vicious, and murderers, but these were the same men who would fight and die gladly for Mor Ardain. The beauty and the horror were inseparable from each other, woven together so tightly, in this chaotic, awful, magnificent symphony. The Clockwork Demon was not some separate entity from the Empire, they were both different faces of the same thing, and one could not exist without the other, and so tragedy was in the very bones of Mor Ardain. And oh, it was wondrous, and beautiful, and awful and terrifying all at once.

She put a hand to her head, as the symphony grew louder and louder, as Nia twirled in Rex's arms, laughing, as the Brionac and the Ardainian officers dueled with their violins, and the fireworks exploded in the sky, like a thousand rockets and bombs, and just down the street she could see soldiers leading away more ragged prisoners, traitors to be executed, and in the distance she could hear a long, low train whistle, and it all wove together with the symphony, with the smiling faces of the crowd around her, who forgot the past and thought only of the future, and red balloons drifted by the dozens into the sky, so much of it beautiful, so much of it awful, and the symphony grew louder, and louder, and louder, until-

A series of very large fireworks exploded into the sky, with a massive crack, and the night sky bloomed into a thousand red roses, bathing them all in a deep red light, and the sound of the explosions startled the fiddlers, so that suddenly they stopped playing, their melody coming to an abrupt end.

"Lady Morag?" Brighid asked, questioningly, as Morag stared into the explosion in the sky, a mysterious expression on her face.

"You know, Brighid," Morag said, quietly, "Despite it all, Mor Ardain is still a very beautiful place." She shook her head, snapping herself out of her reverie, then pointed back into the crowd. She smiled slightly to herself as she saw Nia and Rex laughing, running off into the night, away from the crowds. After all, she had bought her new friends here, to her home, and got them wrapped up in all this blood and horror. It was good to know that at least some of them were having a good time.

Nia gasped, laughing, as she clambered up one of the metal staircases on the side of a building, the world spinning around her. Perhaps she had had a bit too much wine. Or maybe it was the dancing that got to her head. She glanced down at Rex, who was climbing up after her, as he stumbled on one of the steps, as well, falling on his ass. Well, Rex had probably had a bit too much wine, that was for certain.

They made their way to the rooftop of the building, sitting on the pavement by one of the edges, watching the fireworks explode into the night sky.

"You know, thanks for cheering me up, Nia," Rex said, as the sky burst into flame around them.

"Yeah well, you'd been moping for a few days," she replied. "I know that's not the kind of guy you are."

"Oh? And what kind of guy am I?"

Nia considered for a moment. "You're….Rex," she said simply. "You always keep your chin up. Even when it's stupid." She felt the warmth of the wine filling her with fire, and curled an arm around his. "You...you make me smile."

Rex was quiet for a long moment, staring up into the explosions in the night sky. "It's...not always easy," he said, softly. "I've got a...responsibility to the whole world. I hadn't really thought of it until now. But I'm the Driver of the Aegis, and...I have to find Elysium. Not just for myself, for everybody. But everywhere I go, I seem to muck it up. I couldn't help Vandham. I couldn't stop Mor Ardain from being taken over by butchers." He shook his head. "All that power Malos gives me, and so far I haven't been able to do much helpful with it."

"Those things...they aren't all on you," Nia replied quietly. "You aren't responsible for the whole world, Rex. You can't be so hard on yourself. You're gonna kill yourself if you try to fix everything."

What Rex said next made her blood run cold. "Would that be so bad?" he mused. "I'm just one person. If it's just one person dying for the sake of the whole world, that seems like a pretty good deal to me."

Nia squeezed his arm, hard. She tried to bite back on the fury rising in her. "You...don't just have a responsibility to the world, you know. _Idiot. _You have a responsibility to the...people who care about you too." Suddenly, as the explosions rocked the sky around them, she took his face in her hands. "Do you have any idea how I'd feel if you were to bite it?" she asked, his eyes filling her entire vision. "Do you really? Oh, you bastard, do you?" And suddenly, she was aware that she had an ether connection to him again, a small golden cord connecting the both of them, and through it she could feel him, feel how genuine and good he was, and feel the wound in him as well. Rex hadn't noticed, but right now she didn't even care if he did. It felt so right, so perfect.

Rex laid a hand alongside her face as well, and it took all her willpower to not nuzzle up to it. "Nia," he said, quietly. "I'm sorry. I'm really not a very good friend, am I?"

"You..." Nia shook her head, the words tying up in her mouth. But she took a deep breath, forcing herself to continue. "You...Rex, you're sweet, and...I...I'm so glad I met you, I...ah, this sappy stuff is so dumb!" She removed her hands from his face, fishing around in one of the pockets of her dress, producing a small, red cactus flower. "I...there's barely any flowers around here, I had to really go hunting for this one, I..."

"What's it mean?" 

"No, shh," Nia said, laughing to herself. "The official meaning...it's ah, 'cute butt', or something like that-"

Rex raised an eyebrow her, and she shoved him, laughing, falling over onto him. "I'm trying to say," she snickered, "that, the official meaning doesn't matter, because it's the only one I could find. Not that it's not cute. But that doesn't matter. Because...this is given with special meaning from me. C'mere." She fastened it to his breast pocket. "This means….you're a rotten bastard...who means a lot to me...and you..." suddenly, she leaned forward, her forehead touching his, swimming in each other's eyes. "You...you can't hurt me like that, because..." She closed her eyes as the ether connection between them grew. Rex's soul was a burning white-hot flame, and so beautiful, but there in the center of it was a black stain, a flickering black core, that was the stain of Malos' power upon him. "I really want to," she whispered, her face so close to his. "I really want to."

"Really want to what?" Rex murmured.

But visions were flashing through Nia's mind. Her sister, withering away before her eyes, no matter what she did to help her. Pyra, whispering to her through her dreams, telling her how much it could hurt to lose people, how inevitable that loss was. Caes, Vandham's wife, and her awful, endless grief at his graveside, driving her half to madness. And suddenly she was closing her eyes, to prevent the tears from flowing. "Oh, why did you do this to me," she asked, wrapping her arms around Rex, squeezing him tight. "How could you, you awful, beautiful bastard? How dare you, damn it, how dare you?"

Rex wrapped his arms around her as well, and she hated it, she hated how much she loved how it felt. "Nia," he whispered into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's alright. I'm not going to throw my life away for nothing, I promise."

"Don't you throw your life away for anything at all," she hissed into his ear. "Don't do it. Don't do it to me. You arsehole, don't do it. Nothing's worth it." And she squeezed him tighter, and they stayed like that for a time, as the city of Alba Cavanich roared around them, rockets firing into the sky, a false war to proceed the real one.

Finally, the rockets died down, and with a regretful sigh, Nia severed the ether connection between them. It was surprisingly hard to do. It felt...right, it wanted to be there, it resisted being cut off. "I guess we ought to get back," she murmured, as she let go of Rex. She looked at him, blushing slightly. The wine in her blood had died down a bit. She hoped that she hadn't made things between them awkward.

She didn't need to worry. Rex got up, dusting off his pants, adjusting the flower in his breast pocket. "So," he said, breaking the silence, "You think it's cute?"

She smiled as she took his hand as he pulled her up. "Shut up."

"Oh there's nothing wrong," Rex said lightly. "I mean, yours is pretty cute too." He put a finger to his chin, considering. "Nothing compared to mine, of course."

Nia laughed as she took his arm. He might be a dork, but...it was nice knowing that things wouldn't be awkward. He had a way of making things light-hearted and still remaining sincere. It was one of the little things she loved about him.

**44.**

It was a few days later that they gathered at the Alba Cavanich docks, in front of Fan la Norne's ship, ready to depart.

Fan's ship was a large Indoline vessel. Dwarfed by the military titan ships it was next to, of course, but still one of the largest that Rex had ever seen. Whereas Ardainian ships, civilian or military, were always covered in armor and designed to resist boarding and invasion, the Indoline ship was much more decorative, fluted white columns spiraling upwards, designed almost to look like seashells, multiple stories of rounded doorways, with spiraling leaf and vine patterns carved into the marble, the decks delicate, polished wood, golden railings. Ardainian ships were, undoubtedly, weapons of war. Fan's ship was designed as much to be pleasant to look at as it was designed to be a vessel.

The decks bustled with soldiers, many of them carrying huge crates of ammunition to be loaded onto the warships that docked and departed with incredible rapidity. It took a mere half hour for one military ship to be docked, refueled, stocked up with ammo, and set out again. The efficiency was astounding.

There were a few people there to see them off. The first was Tatazo, Tora's father. "Tora still think his dadapon should come along," Tora muttered, embracing his father one last time. "What if Bana try to find you again…?"

"Hah! Tora not worry about his dadapon. MuiMui got drop on him, is true. But Tatazo a wily one, he promise." Tatazo broke off the hug, stroking his mustache with one wing. "Remember, must gather pieces to build Lila new body. Have a few more pieces to buy here, then taking a ship out to some prime salvaging spots. Tora not worry! Tatazo take care of himself, he promise. Once he gather enough pieces, he find Tora, and if sonnypon have time, they rebuild Lila together." He placed his hands on his hips, looking up at the rest of the party. "Although it seem like Tora have very important mission now, yes?"

"That's right. We gotta find Elyisum," Rex said, pounding a fist into his hand.

"What? Okay sure, whatever, but Tatazo talking about finding ancient technology." His eyes gleamed with interest. "Beast guarding the world tree, from your description, most definitely mechanical. Imagine what we gain if we dismantle it! Oh yes."

"Tora very interested in finding secrets of ancient technology as well!" Tora cried, shivering. "I mean if Rex-Rex want to do side-quest to find Elyisum, that cool too. Only polite to help."

Malos broke into laughter. "Engineers. They never change."

Tatazo reached up to take Poppi's hands in his. "Poppi, it very nice to meet you as well. You living embodiment of sonnypon's engineering ability and fashion sense. And you have within you only remaining link to Grampypon SooSoo." He wiped a tear from his eye. "Please look after Tora."

"Tatazo not worry," Poppi murmured, looking down at her driver with glowing orange eyes. "Poppi make sure her Tora never taken from her ever again."

Next was Niall, surrounded by a platoon of bodyguard soldiers. Morag had selected them personally. If she could not be there to protect her brother, the least she could do was screen his bodyguard for him, and make sure that none of them were Brionac. She had spent countless hours interviewing soldiers, sussing out their loyalties. In the end, she had drawn many of his bodyguard from the cavalry. They no longer rode animal mounts into battle, rather, they drove tanks. But they had a long tradition, back to the days when Mor Ardain was just a fledgling Empire, with no Senate yet to speak of, when the nation was little more than a band of marauders led by a warlord. And they still, to this day, pledged their loyalty to the Emperor over the Senate. And many of them seemed overjoyed to be personally selected by a member of Ardainian royalty. "The Senate is a fad. The Dynasty is eternal," one of the soldiers had said to her, clasping her hands in joy as she selected him to be a bodyguard. If only he knew how close the dynasty had come to ending.

"I would like to thank you all for your help during Mor Ardain's bloodiness," he said to the party. "In particular, I would like to thank you, Nia." He clasped her hand and leaned forward, to whisper into her ear. "I will do everything in my power to improve life for your kind within my borders," he said quietly, so the others could not hear.

"It's no problem," Rex replied. "I just wish there was more we could have done to help."

Niall spread his hands, smiling wanly. "It's my responsibility now, Rex."

Brighid, uncharacteristically, knelt down to give the Emperor a fierce hug. "I want you to get your sleep now," she said, wagging a finger in her face. "Remember the instructions Nia wrote down for you. Ten hours of sleep, three solid meals a day, and a glass of warm milk at night. You're a growing boy, and your body still needs to recover." She got up, crossing her arms, glaring around at his bodyguards. "You all, listen here. I want you to make sure Niall follows those instructions. I don't care if he is the Emperor. You have the permission of the Jewel of Mor Ardain to make sure he takes care of himself."

Morag was holding Aegaeon's core in her hand as Niall turned to her. "Niall," she said quietly, "I still think you ought to have Aegaeon by your side."

"My mind is made up, sister," Niall replied, before he embraced her in a tight hug.

Morag was surprised for a moment, but then wrapped her arms around him as well. "Please, take care of yourself," she murmured.

"It's in the hands of fate, now," Niall said cryptically, as he pulled away from her. "Don't worry about me. Help Rex find Elysium."

And the last to come say goodbye to them, to their surprise, was Sylvie. She was in heavy disguise, wearing none of her Brionac insignia, or her usual military uniform, instead wearing normal civilian clothes, with her face concealed by a large scarf. "Gah, this thing is sweltering," she snapped as she unraveled it.

"We may have to work on your disguises, Senator," Niall said dryly.

"Well it works, right? Just have to make sure no Brionac spot me here." She looked over the party, not knowing what to say. Finally, her eyes settled on Morag. "I...Morag, I'm going to try to do the right thing. I know….I haven't for a long time. But I'm going to try."

Morag sighed, then looked away, coolly. "A fine time to start. When it's probably already too late."

Sylvie looked at her with sadness in her eyes, then turned to Rex and Malos. "You...you were right," she said to Rex, giving him a small smile. "At least, that's what I'm telling myself. I'm not a monster. I can do the right thing." She looked over towards Malos. "And...for what it's worth...I don't think you're a monster, either," she murmured. "Or, if you think you are….it's because that's what you choose to be."

Malos stared at her, impassive, face frozen in a stern, stoic expression. Finally, he shrugged. "I am what I have to be," he said quietly. "That depends on the circumstances. The important part is that I won't ever pretend it makes me a good person."

And with that, they boarded Fan la Norne's ship, all standing on the deck to wave goodbye as, slowly, the ship rumbled to life and smoothly began pulling away from the dock. Morag looked out, at the shrinking figure of her brother, at the spires and glittering towers of Alba Cavanich, her beloved country, with all its glory, and all its treachery, its honor and its traitors, all its beauty and all its horror.

"Goodbye," she whispered, as first her brother, then the docks, then the spires of the city itself slowly faded into the distance, enveloped in the grey fog of the Cloud Sea.

**45.**

It was a couple weeks after Morag and the rest had left. Sylvie sighed as she hunched over a desk in her mansion. It was large, mostly empty now. Her father had passed away a couple of years ago, and her mother, after that, had retired to a small villa in Gormott. Sylvie had long stopped paying for the servants, rarely visiting the mansion. She had considered selling it, but it was a good thing she didn't. It came in useful now.

She had a place in the Senator's quarters in the palace as well, of course. But this was the sort of work that definitely shouldn't be left around the palace. Before her, lying spread out on the desk, were hundreds of financial documents on the funding of Brionac. That, she decided, had been the best place to begin, to get some useful information for Niall. She knew the Brionac party had a fund – they had even paid for her election campaign, in the past – but she wasn't aware where the money came from. But they also had the money to build an army of their own, and the money to pull off an attempted coup. Those things didn't come cheap. She was expecting to find all sorts of donors, from industrialists within Mor Ardain. And there was a lot of that, yes. But much less than she had expected.

And as she had begun prying into the sources of the cash Brionac had, it led her through a byzantine series of money exchanges, people attempting to make the source difficult to find. But after some research, and some logical deductions, she was left with a startling conclusion.

It was Indol.

Indol was underwriting Brionac to an enormous extent. It was hard to say just how much – so much of the cash sources were still uncertain. But at least forty percent – forty percent! Of Brionac's available cash could be traced back to various sources in Indol. Another thirty percent was uncertain, but she suspected a large chunk of that might be Indoline in source as well.

And that wasn't all. It wasn't just any Indoline source. In fact there was no source in Indol who could command this much money. It had to be coming from the Indoline government. And if it was coming from the Indoline government, that meant the Praetor knew about it. Indol was not Mor Ardain. In Mor Ardain, there was enough government bureaucracy and competing interests – even now, with Brionac having murdered much of the competition – for there to be room for hidden money flowing out. Not so in Indol. Praetor Amalthus was absolute monarch, and he brooked absolutely nothing in his government to be hidden from his knowledge. He insisted on complete government transparency. On pain of imprisonment or execution. Draconian, yes, but Sylvie supposed it might have served the Empire better if the Emperor had that policy, wouldn't it have?

But why would Indol be underwriting Brionac? It was definitely at odds with their public position. Amalthus had not been shy in his scathing criticism of the war, and even in his scathing criticism of Brionac in particular, even if Indol remained one of Mor Ardain's closest diplomatic connections.

Unless, wily fox that he was, Amalthus actually wanted the war. But….what for…?

Well...it was no secret that the Indoline theocracy was the most powerful military in the world, after Mor Ardain. But why would he encourage Mor Ardain to attack Uraya, which would only strengthen them in the long run, if…

Unless...Sylvie checked herself. She tried to think through things clearly, as an outsider. Amalthus had the weight of centuries of experience, and was a near-mythic figure. He was no fool. Maybe...Mor Ardain was not so mighty that an invasion against Uraya would go smoothly. Maybe Amalthus expected it to be much more bloody than Sylvie thought it would be. Maybe he expected it to weaken Mor Ardain to the extent that Indol could claim its place as most powerful nation in the world.

Well, she had more than enough evidence. Later on she could meet the Emperor and tell him all about it. But first…

She gathered up a summary of the relevant documents, and a small letter, into a silver tube, which she locked with a key. It was a courier tube, for important information between government officials. Only Senators and other important officials had the key to unlock them. She assumed Morag would have one.

Ironically, Brionac had a list of compromised members of the Courier corps that they knew could be used to spy. This came in handy for Sylvie now, who could use the list to know exactly who _not _to entrust with the message.

Roughly an hour later, she was meeting a member of the Courier corps by the palace barracks. It was late at night, but the Courier corps's motto was any message, anywhere, any time of day, no matter what it took. She looked the young man up and down as she handed the tube to him. Other companies might deride the Couriers as glorified mailmen, but she knew they were subject to some of the most rigorous training of any of Mor Ardain's troops, and often undertook missions far more dangerous than any other division would ever face. He was kitted out not in the Ardainian heavy armor, but a much lighter reconnaisance outfit, baggy clothes and bandoliers strapped about him, carrying a large rifle. He looked young, but confident, experienced.

"This message," she said quietly, "Is going to Morag Ladair. You will deliver it no matter what happens. Even if the invasion begins, don't listen to recall orders until you get this to her. Understood?"

The young man's eyebrows rose. "_The _Morag Ladair? Well then. And her last location?"

Sylvie considered. "She should be in Indol, soon. But _stay away from Indol with that message. _I don't care how good you think you are, it's not worth the risk of the message being captured."

The young man raised a hand. "Say no more. We take requests, no questions asked. Any idea where she'd be headed after Indol?"

"...No," Sylvie admitted.

"Well," replied the young man with a salute, "Don't you worry, ma'am. I'll try to catch up with her before she gets to Indol, or I'll catch her on the way out. Courier corps always gets the job done. Unless I'm killed." He laughed lightheartedly.

"That's what I like to hear," Sylvie laughed herself, placing her hands on her hips. "Alright, soldier, I'll leave it to you."

She returned home to her mansion, opening the door, walking in through the dark. She had a meeting with Niall early tomorrow morning, and she could tell him about her findings then. And after that-

Suddenly, she froze at the sound of a gun slowly cocking behind her. "Hello, Sylvie," a voice whispered from the darkness.

Sylvie slowly turned around. There, in the dark of the hallway behind her, was a tall, thin Brionac officer, his silver skulls burning bright blue in the moonlight filtering in through the window. She recognized him. This was Richard. A captain in Brionac. She had...even gone to military academy with him, back in the day. They had even been friends. He was pointing a gun at her face, the barrel seeming like it went on forever. He gave her a crooked little smile. "We've been busy, haven't we," he said, holding up a sheaf of her research papers in his other hand. "Very busy."

"Richard," Sylvie said, mournfully. "Why did it have to be you…?"

"Actually," Richard said, scattering the papers on the floor, "When it was being discussed, I volunteered for this."

Sylvie slowly raised her eyes from the gun barrel. There, hanging on the wall of the mansion, was an old photograph of her father, sitting on top of his tank, surrounded by his friends in the cavalry. They had always looked...so happy. Her father had so many stories of his comrades-in-arms, and they had remained friends until the day they died. It...was something Sylvie had always wished she had. Oh, well. Too late now.

"I tried to do the right thing, dad," she murmured to the photograph. "I really did."

In the night, shots rang out, echoing throughout the streets of Alba Cavanich. And then all was silent.

**Note:**

Wow, back to back longest chapters, I really just wanted to get chapter 4 done with, I wasn't actually expecting that there was that much left to it

A very inspiring song for me this chapter, particularly the scene with Morag and the fiddlers, was Max Richter – Infra 5

As always please, please comment if you read this, these chapters take a lot to write and comments are basically the only feedback I get. I write this because I like to, but it would be a lie to say that more readers and more comments aren't motivating. Unfortunately I don't really have time to advertise this anywhere on my own. So please if you can, comment, and if you know friends who might enjoy this, tell them about it


	19. Chapter 19

**1.**

Jin stood at the edge of a cliff, wind whipping through his hair, face impassive behind his mask. The drop was a sheer five hundred feet, down in to the jagged rocks of a lake below. The roar of a gigantic waterfall to his right drowned out his thoughts. He stood just out of the range of the splash from the falling water. He looked with hollow eyes out across the green fields rolling off into the distance. There, just at the edge of the horizon, was Torigoth, smoke curling from a few of its chimneys.

He glanced behind him. There, sitting on the top of a large boulder, staring off into the sky, was Mythra.

Ever since she had emerged, there had been no sign of Pyra. It still seemed...strange, to Jin. It had been strange enough when she was Pyra, true. How he had come to care for a...version of the person who had helped destroy Torna. But it was even stranger now that Pyra had become Mythra. He closed his eyes. He could still remember when this angelic figure had, with joy in her heart, summoned death from the sky, ripping Torna apart, murdering thousands…

And yet...even though what had been taken from him remained a cold knot in his heart, the fury that drove him...he had found that he had no lingering anger in his heart for Mythra. Whoever she had been….Pyra was also a part of her now. Oh, there were differences, to be sure. Where Pyra was cooler, more collected, more….disciplined, Mythra was full of passion and fire. And tormented. Jin often found her staring off into space, anguish written on her face. The sickness of this world, the world that her father had created, had more of an effect on her than it did on Pyra. She could feel it, in some fundamental way, feel the suffering of the world, and merely existing was painful for her. But Pyra was still part of her, all the same. They shared memories, believed the same things...and he could tell by the way she looked at him, felt the same things, as well. And Pyra had spent so long caring for him, at his lowest point, for him to be able to feel anger at someone she was a part of.

Sighing, he turned back to gaze ruefully at Torigoth. They had come here on a mission – to destroy a capital ship of the Ardainian Empire. It was part of their mission – to weaken the Ardainians so that they'd be more willing to accept peace with Uraya. They had been busy infiltrating military ports of the Empire while their battlecruisers were docked, destroying them from within. Mythra could, if she wanted, raze the ports themselves to the ground. But she insisted on trying to minimize casualties as much as possible – though she was certainly more flexible on the matter than Pyra was. But as many as they were able to take down, it simply wasn't enough – Mor Ardain's industrial capacity was more than they could keep up with, and its standing fleets simply too large. They had sent Patroka and Mikhail to sabotage an artificial blade factory within the Empire itself, while they came here to Gormott to destroy one of their most important capital ships. But when they had arrived, the ship was already gone, already on its way back to Mor Ardain.

He could feel Mythra's frustration. She desperately wanted to stop the war, but Mor Ardain...Jin had , honestly, never given much thought to the Empire. His thoughts were occupied mostly by other nations, dead ones, and the ones who responsible for the disaster deep in his past. But Mor Ardain truly was something else. Mor Ardain was a demonstration of the strength of the mortal world. Other countries simply didn't compare, except for perhaps Indol, and Jin had always considered Indol a product of the wicked genius of Amalthus. But Mor Ardain was a nation of mortals, no mythic devil from the depths of time to lead them. And yet the Empire seemed….inexorable. Unconquerable. Shrugging off the loss of huge cruisers, its endless factories spewing forth more in a month's time. Nothing they had yet done was coming close to stopping the war. The Empire had truly earned its nickname. Jin was one of the most powerful blades in existence, and he had the Aegis by his side. And yet even they felt helpless before it. It could not even be said that they owed their success to the exploitation of blades in combat, not truly: It was their infernal machines, their tanks, their cruisers and bombs, that purchased them their superiority in combat.

He understood Mythra's desire to end the war. She wanted as little suffering as possible on their way to their goal. But he couldn't help but feel that it was a distraction from their true mission. They still needed Malos to open their way to the world tree. It was not merely that the great serpent Ophion was a problem – though it was, as an Artifice forged by the Architect himself, Mythra had said that even with her Titan-shattering capabilities, all of them together would unlikely be able to defeat Ophion. It bought a chill to Jin's heart to think of that, sometimes. He knew Mythra had controlled Ophion, back during the Aegis war, before she awoke to find it no longer under her control after her defeat. If what she could do without Ophion could crack Titans, what exactly was Ophion itself capable of? What kind of creator was the Architect, to forge such monstrosities?

It was also the fact that to open the path to the World Tree beyond, both Aegis were necessary. The Architect had...shut himself off from the world, in some way Jin did not fully understand. It would take both Malos and Mythra to make their way into his reclusion. Malos had proven wilier and more difficult to capture than they had anticipated. Jin still didn't think much of his driver – still felt sorry for Rex, if he was being honest. Rex was just a poor kid with big dreams dragged into Malos' war. He...almost reminded Jin of Lora, a bit. He had the same light, the same sweet hope within him that Lora had had. Naive, beautiful Lora, who had volunteered to fight with Malos in the Aegis war out of the goodness of her heart. Whose grandest dream had been to build a home and live a long life with Jin, helping as many as they could along the way. Yes...Rex was like her, in many ways. And that was what the world did to people like Rex and Lora. That's what Malos did. Dragged them into wars they were doomed to die in. Robbed them of their light, forever. In many ways, he couldn't even blame Nia for wanting to remain at his side. People like Rex and Lora, they...made you believe the world could be beautiful. And then they left you broken forever when the Architect's cruel design crushed them.

Nia...Jin could tell, the last time they battled. The way she had cried out Rex's name, the way she had rushed to his side, the way her eyes had shot open with fear whenever Jin's blade had strayed close to him….Jin was nothing if not observant. She cared deeply for the boy. And...there was a small part of Jin that was….happy for her, in a way. A small part of him that looked on her, and hoped that she got all the joy from being with Rex that he had gotten from being with Lora. Even if he knew it was all doomed to end in tragedy that would completely break her heart. Whatever pain the Architect had, in his cruelty, made an inevitable part of the beauty of the world...sometimes the beauty could still be worth it. After all...there were points when he wished he had never known Lora, so he didn't have to live with the grief of her loss all the time. But most of the time...despite all the pain and horror that came later...he would have never traded the years he had with her for anything.

Jin realized with a start that he really, really didn't want to have to hurt Rex. He didn't want to be the one inflicting on Nia the same kind of pain that had been inflicted on him when Lora had been torn from him. In some ways, he wanted nothing but happiness for them.

Damned Malos. Malos had...broken his heart almost as much as Lora had. In a different way, of course. His was the pain of betrayal, not the rage and grief of loss. During the Aegis War, he and Malos had been...out of anyone, Malos had probably gotten on best with Jin. And Jin had admired the Aegis' sense of duty, and his grim gallows humor had been one of the few things that could make him chuckle. His bond with Lora was always the most important thing to him...but with Malos...in the time he had known him...he had thought he had made a friend. A brother, of sorts.

And then the day Malos and Mythra had battled, and their...god-like machines had ripped gigantic holes in Torna….and Malos had come plummeting to earth, topping out of his machine. He was damaged, Jin could tell – his form flickering in and out of existence. But before he had retreated to his core, he had turned to them all, arms spread wide – a triumphant, gleeful grin on his face. If it had merely been for duty's sake….Jin could have understood. But he understood, in that moment, as Malos smiled while Torna burned and died beneath the wounds he had inflicted...Malos had _enjoyed _himself. He had enjoyed the destruction he had wrought, enjoyed the doom he had brought crashing down from the sky. In that moment, he had understood they were all dust before Malos' damned duty. If he thought it was necessary, he would have killed them all, and he would have done it with a smile on his face. And the realization had been like a knife in Jin's heart. He had cared for Malos, but the man had never been his friend, never been his brother. Malos wasn't made for that. Malos was made for death. And nothing else. And now, here he was again, dragging poor Rex, poor Nia, along into his battle...perhaps they even thought he cared, as Jin had, once. He wondered if they would feel the same way he had, the day Malos inevitably revealed he'd be willing to crush them if he thought it necessary.

He sighed once more, turning back to Mythra. Unfortunately, they had had Akhos drop them off in the Monoceros in one of the more isolated areas of Gormott, and the scheduled rendezvous was not for another few days. Another few days of them being unable to do anything to stop the impending war. It...couldn't go on like this. They were probably going to have to take more...drastic action.

"What should we do…?" Mythra asked, quietly, as Jin approached her. Her face remained fixed on the sky, dark bags beneath her eyes. "So much time, wasted..." She shuddered, putting her hands to her face. "It's….it's still coming, Jin. We're failing. This war. What should we do…?"

"We can steal a Titan ship docked in Torigoth to get back quicker," Jin began, but suddenly his ears picked up a small, suspicious sound. Mythra heard it as well. They both whipped their heads around.

Behind them, carved into the rock of Torigoth's mountains, was a small, dark cave, its depths hidden in shadow. But there was no mistaking it – it was a very human sound emanating from the cave, not wildlife. Small, quiet murmurs, speech.

Jin's hand went to his blade, popping from its sheath with his thumb. Mythra leapt down from the boulder, raising a hand, a small orb of light flying from her outstretched palm into the cave, lighting it up.

And as they approached, there, in the depths of the cave, hiding in the scant few shadows that Mythra's light did not penetrate, was a group of five Gormotti children, their faces dirty, their clothes ragged. They looked at the two with fearful eyes as they approached, and one fierce boy stepped forward, a snarled mane of tangled reddish-brown hair framing his dirty face, flashing green eyes staring at them defiantly. "You...stay away from them," he snapped, his voice trembling, as he spread his arms out to protect his friends.

Jin looked at him, bemused, sliding his blade back home into its sheath. "Calm down, boy. We have no intention of hurting you or your friends."

The boy still looked uncertain, standing protectively in front of his friends. His eyes widened as Mythra approached him, crouching down to talk to him face to face. "What's going on, here? Are you and your friends lost?" she asked, her voice gentle.

The boy blushed. "Um. No, miss," he said, looking down at the ground. "Y-you're very pretty," he blurted, suddenly.

"Shut up, Rhys!" a small Gormotti girl cried from behind him.

"What! She is!" Rhys snapped back at her.

Jin smirked as Mythra chuckled quietly. "Rhys, that's your name, is it? My name is Mythra, and this is Jin."

"Yes, miss," the boy replied quietly. Finally, he let down his guard, his hands, dropping to his sides.

"Well, why don't you tell me what you're doing here?"

Rhys was quiet for a moment, and suddenly the other children behind him began crying. "We...our...village was attacked by bandits," he murmured. "Our parents told us to go hide in the woods while they defended...but the bandits had blades, they overpowered them...and then...they took everyone to the village square...and...and..." he looked up, tears carving streaks in his grimy face. "T-t-they killed them. All our parents. Everyone in the village. And then they burned it down. I..." He scrubbed his face furiously, trying to get rid of the tears, until finally he gave up and placed his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

Mythra closed her eyes as the children wept before her. Another example of her father's monstrous, endless cruelty. "Shhhh, shhh," she said, gathering them in towards her. "Come on. Let's get you something to eat." She glanced up at Jin. "Do we have enough in our supplies…?"

"No," Jin replied quietly. "But I can probably fish something up."

Mythra nodded. "I'll get a fire going."

**2.**

It was a few hours later, when night had begun to fall, when Mythra, Jin and the five children sat around a roaring bonfire, the smell of sizzling fish wafting deliciously through the air.

The children sat wrapped in blankets and towels, drying themselves by the fire. Mythra had insisted that they bathe themselves in the nearby stream, as she tried her best to wash some of the filth out of their clothes, which lay drying by the fire as well. She had examined them for wounds. They were all fairly uninjured, except for minor cuts and scratches, but were all very skinny. By the state of their clothes and how thin they had gotten, she thought they must have been on their own for some time. When questioned, Rhys admitted that it had been weeks that had they had been on their own, and they had barely eaten anything at all other than some berries and wild pears they had found. It was fortunate that they knew a bit about how to survive in the wild, having grown up in an isolated village. Other children probably would not have lived so long.

Jin had fished up more than enough for everyone to have a large meal. Gormott's bounty was a blessing. He placed the steaming portions of cooked fish, delicately spiced, onto large leaves for plates. "Careful, it's still hot," he cautioned, as he passed out the fish to the wide-eyed children, who blew on their portions frantically before digging into them greedily, eating with wild abandon, using their hands.

Mythra and Jin let the children eat their fish in peace, watching them idly from across the roaring fire.

"Imagine," Mythra murmured by Jin's side. He glanced over at her. She was watching the children with an odd expression on her face. "Imagine being my Father. Having the ability to order the world as you see fit. And you give children this incredible ability to love."

"I..wouldn't know," Jin mumured in reply. "I never was a child."

"No, I guess you wouldn't. I guess many blades wouldn't really know, not having parents. Maybe Nia would have some idea, with how her driver adopted her. But children love their parents so...completely, so thoroughly. Admire them. I...have some idea. I felt that way about Father, once. A very, very long time ago. And when I was first awoken..." pain crossed her face. "I...even felt that way about Amalthus, once." She shook her head, drawing a deep breath. "He gave them this capacity for love, and then throws them into a world where it becomes poison before they're even old enough to take care of themselves. These children...they're going to live with the pain of their parents being murdered before their eyes for the rest of their lives. And children don't have a choice. They can't help but love their parents." She stared into the night sky, off into the direction of the world tree, glowing a gentle green, far off on the horizon. "Why did he do it? Why did he make the world such an awful hell? Where everything beautiful can be turned against you…? Does he not care…? Is he...like Malos, where he just can't understand? Was it all just an awful mistake born from his ignorance? Could he really be this unimaginably cruel?"

"We'll get our answers once we meet him." He glanced down, suddenly. Mythra's hand had worked its way into his, holding him tightly.

"Jin," she whispered, still staring at the World Tree, "I'm scared."

Jin was quiet for a moment, his only response being to squeeze her hand.

"Father is...beyond anything you could imagine," Mythra murmured after a moment. "If he so desired...he could read my every thought. Yours too. The thought of any blade. His creations could end the world a thousand times over, if he commanded them to. If he willed it, he could reach down from the Tree and force us back into our cores, lock us there forever. I know….you're angry at him. With good reason. I am, too. But there really is no fighting him. We will only be able to get close to the Tree at all at his mercy. Or...because he's stopped caring."

"And is that why you're scared? You think we wouldn't...be able to defeat him, if it was necessary?"

"No," Mythra whispered. "I've...always known that. What frightens me is...he's the Creator of this world. Infinite power in his hands. What would make him...lose interest in the world? If that's why he's gone silent...what is it that he saw?"

"Um, Sir? Miss?"

Mythra and Jin glanced back across the fire. The children had finished their meals. Most of them were drifting off to sleep, leaning against each other, sprawled in the grass. With the past few weeks they had had, blankets, soft grass, full bellies and a fire seemed like paradise to them.

But Rhys stood before them, wrapped in his blanket, his intense green eyes almost glowing in the dark as the light from the fire reflected off of them. "I...I wanted to say...thank you," he stammered, blushing again as Mythra stared at him. "But…those bandits….the ones I told you about...we were trying to make our way to Torigoth to warn them. Before we ran away, we heard them saying that they were going to Torigoth next. I think they're going to attack it…."

Jin leaned back, crossing his arms. "How many of these bandits did you say there were?"

"Maybe twenty. Five with blades."

"Well." Jin shook his head. "They aren't going to Torigoth to attack it, then. The Ardainian garrison may have been recalled to the front lines, but they've still got plenty of soldiers left behind. Those bandits would never break past the defenses. No. I'd say it's more likely they're headed to Torigoth to try to enlist in the Imperial army. Bandits do that all the time. Give up the plundering life to sign up with an army. They know they'll be hunted down otherwise, and killing is what they're good at."

Rhys stared at him with wide eyes. "Would...they could really do that? Just join up with the army, and get away with it all?"

"Yes." Jin nodded. "Foreigners who enlist in the Imperial military usually get a guarantee of forgiveness for past crimes, rebellions or insurrections. That's the exact purpose of it, actually. To give rebels and bandits a way to surrender, instead of backing them into a corner where they have to fight."

Rhys's eyes grew even wider, and he looked back down at the ground. "It's….it's not right," he muttered, and suddenly tears were in his eyes again.

"What was your plan, Rhys?" Mythra asked quietly. "After warning Torigoth. What were you and your friends going to do?"

"I dunno about my friends..." Rhys said, sniffling, glancing back at them snoozing in the grass, just on the edge of the flickering light cast by the fire. "But...I wanted to go get a blade of my own. And then kill them."

There was silence for a moment, the only sound the crackling of the fire.

"You know that's dangerous, boy. Not everyone can bond with a blade. If you're incompatible, you might end up dead." Jin's eyes were cold, burning blue in the darkness, behind his mask.

Mythra put up a hand, reaching out through the ether, her eyes closed as she concentrated. "Well. You are compatible, at least," she said, opening her eyes.

"I...I wanted to ask..." Rhys said shyly, pointing to the glowing green core on Mythra's chest. "Are you...a blade? His blade…?"

"I...am a blade, yes." Mythra glanced over at Jin. "But...not his. I don't have a driver."

"I never heard of a blade without a driver," Rhys said, wonderingly.

"I'm a very special kind of blade."

"Well…." Rhys glanced up, suddenly bold. "Will...will you be my blade then? Will you help me get back at those bandits? Please, miss, you don't have to be my blade forever! I just-"

Mythra laughed quietly, putting up a hand. "You….really don't want me as your blade," she replied, her voice soft, sad. "But...I would like to know where these bandits are."

Jin glanced at her, arching an eyebrow in quite surprise. But he kept his silence.

"Why don't you get some sleep, with your friends," Mythra continued, laying a hand on Rhys's cheek, as the boy blushed and looked away again. "We can talk about what to do tomorrow morning."

As the boy nodded glumly, walking away to lay down in the grass, wrapped up next to his friends, Jin glanced over at Mythra. "Hunting bandits?"

"Well, we're stuck here for a few days anyway," Mythra murmured, her sad eyes watching the children sleep.

"No. I mean...it doesn't seem like you."

Mythra was quiet for a long, long time. "I...am not Pyra," she said, finally. "We share a lot. We agree on a lot. But...we disagree on the best way to get there." She shook her head. "I...spent a lot of time locked away….not….wanting to be the ugly, awful thing I was before. Not wanting….to let this world touch me. Pyra...woke me up, because there are some things I can do she can't. Not just because I have the power." She looked at him, a sad, crooked smile on her face. "Like kill. Kill to save you. Kill because...I'm already part of the nightmare Father made. I already caused so much suffering. Kill because I'm already a monster."

**3.**

The children were voraciously hungry when they awoke the next morning, as well. Jin marveled at how much they could eat. Fishing yesterday, he had bought back an entire bushel of fish – more than enough, he had thought, to last nearly a week, once the food was cooked and preserved. Instead, the children had eaten through it all it two meals, and were already asking for more. "Architect," he muttered. "I don't know how humans do it."

"Give them a break, Jin, they've been starving out here for weeks." Mythra placed her hands on her hips, surveying the group. They were much more energetic than they had been yesterday. Just some food and some good sleep had gone a long way to restoring their spirits. Some times, they even seemed like normal kids, not ones who had watched their parents die in front of them. Rhys though, sat away from his friends, still brooding.

"There's a lumber camp not so far from here," Jin said quietly, as the children chased each other around. "Owned by a small family, father, mother, two sons, daughter. I scouted it out, watched them for a while. They seem like decent people. I think we could trust them to take care of the kids and bring them to Torigoth."

Mythra nodded, approvingly.

"And Rhys?" Jin asked.

"Rhys." Mythra glanced over at the young boy, sitting on a log, kicking at the dirt. "I….I want Rhys to show me where his village was."

Jin silently crossed his arms.

"I'm curious," Mythra continued. "I...want to see. And you can track the bandits from there, can't you?"

"I could."

Together, they gathered the children. It was a bit like herding cats. After their long isolation in the wilderness, the children were excited about the prospect of returning to civilization. Though a coupe of the older ones seemed to sober up a bit when they realized that returning to civilization didn't mean returning to normalcy. There never would be a normal for them, again. Not a home to go back to, no parents to return to. What they were looking at was an orphanage. The best they could hope for was friendly strangers.

The lumber camp was about an hour's walk away. As they approached, they spotted a small sign, reading 'Borvald Family Lumber'. The daughter, a slim Gormotti girl barely older than the children themselves, spotted them first, from where she was laying sitting on a pile of stacked logs, chewing a blade of grass idly. Her eyes widened as she saw them coming up the path, and she immediately leapt down, running back towards the cabin, calling for her parents.

The family met them on the path, before they made their way to the cabin. The father and his two sons, all wide, broad-shouldered, muscular Gormotti men blocked their path, each of them casually carrying an axe, as the mother and daughter watched cautiously from the distance. Jin supposed, with bandits around, the family had probably learned to be careful. But they loosened up a bit once Jin and Mythra told them the children's story, their faces falling to hear what had befallen their village.

"S'awful," the father rumbled, tugging on his thick, blonde mane, as his wife and daughter slowly approached. He eyed the children, wincing. "S'awful. With the Ardainians concentrating on the Urayans, guess it wasn't long before bandits that bad popped up. Still."

"Will you take them to Torigoth?" Mythra asked, as the children hid behind her, peering cautiously around her legs at the family.

"Of course. Only right. We can take them there when we go to make our delivery next week." He glanced down at the kids, then at his wife, who had arrived at his side. "You kids like cookies? Sara here makes a mean batch of cookies."

His wife crossed her arms, winking at the children. "That's right. Best in Gormott. I'll make you a batch. But you gotta get to them fast, before my husband here gobbles them all up."

Slowly, the children warmed up to the family, slowly emerging from behind Mythra, as the wife and husband promised them safety, shelter and more food. Only Rhys remained by Mythra's side. "This one….he said he'd show us the way to his village, and to the bandits," Mythra said, when the husband looked at her questioningly.

"Are y'sure that's safe?" the husband asked, crossing his broad arms.

"I promise you," Jin said grimly, "It's going to be a lot less safe for the bandits than it will be for us or the child."

"Rhys...be careful!" yelled one of the Gormotti children, a small girl with bright red hair, rushing forward to hug him. 

"Geddoff, Linz," Rhys muttered, as she squeezed him tight, before finally rolling his eyes and hugging her back. "I'll be fine. I'm gonna get those bastards back."

"Just come back," Linz snapped at him. She fidgeted for a bit, then gave him a peck on the cheek before rushing back to join her friends with the family.

Rhys blushed furiously as his friends tittered and giggled. He turned back to Mythra and Jin as the family retreated back to their cabin with his friends, a hand lingering thoughtfully on the cheek Linz had kissed. "So you really are gonna help me get back at the bandits?" he asked, excitedly.

"First, just bring us to your village," Jin replied. "That's the last place you saw them, right? We can't make any promises. They might have moved on by now, already."

"Alright, yeah," Rhys said, unable to contain the excitement in his voice. He clenched his fists determinedly, stamping his feet. "It isn't too far. We...ah...we got pretty slow and we spent a lot of time running around confused."

Jin gave Mythra a meaningful look. She knew what he was thinking. They had agreed to meet Akhos at the rendezvous point in three days. Whatever they were doing, they would have to hurry.

Rhys began by leading them up, further up into Gormott's mountains, up winding, narrow paths, steep inclines, long grassy hills dominated by humongous boulders, the ascent so steep that it looked like the boulders might dislodge themselves from the ground and come bouncing down at them at any moment. The sky was crystal-clear blue, and the sun beat down on them. Rhys did a good job at keeping up at first, but soon, the weeks of exhaustion and starvation that he hadn't quite recovered from yet began bearing down on him, and he started to flag, panting with exhaustion, drenched in sweat as he tried to keep a hard pace leading them on. Finally, with a grunt, Jin scooped him up, giving him a piggyback ride. "You just point out where to go," he said, emotionless, when Rhys protested. He looked over to his side, at Mythra, who had a hand to her mouth, her eyes twinkling. "What?"

"Nothing. You just...you look very cute, giving him a ride like that. That's all."

"Hmph."

From then on, they were able to keep a much more brisk pace, Mythra and Jin sprinting up the steep inclines of the mountain, Jin never slowing down despite his burden. Eventually, the hills leveled out, to a high plateau on the mountains, a flat, green field of long grass, humongous, jagged boulders dotting the landscape. As they continued on, the field slowly became dotted with more and more trees, until they stood at the edge of an ominous, thick forest, quiet, full of dark green shadow.

Jin set Rhys down, and they settled in to have some lunch before entering the forest itself. Rhys settled into the sandwich they gave him voraciously, gobbling it up before Mythra and Jin had even taken a few bites of theirs. He licked the crumbs from his fingers, glancing between Mythra and Jin as they ate, green eyes wide and curious. "Y'know, I never did ask," he piped up, suddenly. Jin and Mythra glanced at him. "What are you two doing out here? Some kind of warrior, and a special blade who doesn't need any driver. What are you guys doing in Gormott?"

Mythra was about to finish chewing and answer him, when to her surprise Jin spoke up. "On a mission," he said. Then he laid a finger along the side of his nose and winked at the boy. "A secret one."

"Whoa…." Rhys said, mouth agape in awe. "That's so cool. Who do you guys work for…? Are you with Uraya? You don't look Urayan..."

"We don't work for anyone but ourselves." Then Jin shook his head. That wasn't quite right. "We work for...the memory of loved ones lost."

There was silence for a moment, the wind howling across the plain. Then Rhys crossed his arms and looked at him skeptically. "Memory, eh? Working for memory pay you very well? What kind of a boss is memory?"

"Pfft," Mythra said, nearly choking on her sandwich, and then she burst out laughing. "There's that Gormotti wit," she said, a sad smile on her face. "Oh, he reminds me of Nia."

"Who's Nia?" Rhys asked, squinting up at her.

"A...Gormotti girl, we used to know," Jin said quietly. "She has...a sharp tongue. And a kind heart. Too kind for her own good." He got to his feet, stretching out, then glanced down at Rhys. "We should get going. Are you good to walk on your own, now? Do you need a ride again?"

"I can walk, I can walk," Rhys muttered. "I didn't need a ride before, I told you. Come on."

He led them into the forest. As soon as they entered, it was like a blanket of quiet enveloped them. The sound of the roaring wind on the peaks of the mountain could no longer be heard. Instead there was nothing but the gentle, mysterious rustle of the breeze through the trees. The canopy overhead was thick, letting little light filter through, what light did make its way in stained a dark, gentle green. The forest floor was matted with years of fallen leaves, and besides the sounds of their feet crunching on the forest floor, and the whisper of the wind through the leaves, there was only the occasional tweet of a bird to let them know that they were not alone.

It was a few hours before Rhys led them to a small, beaten dirt path, winding through the woods. "This is it, this is the path home," he said, looking at it sadly. "Still got a ways to go. And...I guess it isn't really home anymore." He rubbed his eyes, blinking furiously. "We...ah, let's just go."

They followed the dirt path, as the daylight began to die, and the forest grew yet more quiet, yet more dim. Finally, Jin bought them to a halt, in an area where the path opened up slightly, before the light died completely. "We can rest here, tonight."

"Yeah...that doesn't sound like a bad idea," Rhys said, quietly. As they had drawn closer and closer to his village, he had become more and more morose, more and more withdrawn. "We can make it there by tomorrow morning."

They gathered some fallen branches and sticks together, making a small ring of rocks to contain a small fire, sweeping bare a large portion of the forest floor so the thick carpet of dry leaves would not catch flame. Rhys, despite his former appetite, declined the food they offered him. Instead, he merely retreated out of the ring of light cast by the campfire, into the dark shadow of the wood, wrapping his blanket around himself, immediately falling into a deep, quiet sleep as he retreated from the world.

Mythra and Jin watched him for a moment, eating in silence. "Hard not to think," Mythra said, after a moment, "That if we don't stop this war, this will be all too common. Children with dead parents. Villages burnt down." She crossed her arms across her chest, looking down at the ground. "It's awful enough seeing just one child's pain. A thousand torn from their families, a thousand seeing their parents die..."

"We can stop that from happening."

Mythra was quiet for a moment. And then, without looking up, she asked, "What if we can't?"

Jin didn't answer, merely staring into the crackling fire.

"We haven't come close to stopping it yet. Nothing we're doing seems to be working."

Jin shifted in the darkness, the flickering shadows from the fire dancing across his face. "I have...some ideas for more….radical action. We haven't done everything we can yet. There are other things we can do. Other routes that we can take."

"And if those don't work?" Mythra whispered. When Jin didn't answer, she continued. "Mor Ardain…I've...well, Pyra has watched it through the centuries. Watched it get bloodier and bloodier. I can't recall a single time in history where it was swayed away from the path of war, once it had settled on it. No disaster or defeat or scandal has ever stopped it. And now it's stronger than it ever has been."

Jin remained silent. He didn't have an answer for her. If his next plan didn't work, the fact was that he didn't have any plan after that. If his next plan didn't work, Mor Ardain was going to get its war, like it had countless times in the past. Trampling countless lives, ending countless futures.

Mythra raised her head to stare longingly into the fire, the lights dancing in her eyes. "The suffering is all too much," she murmured. "This...hell of a world. The normal horror, the normal tragedy of life, is it not enough for them? They have to drag this world to war, to the darkest nightmares possible? What will stop it? What can be done to stop it…?"

**4.**

They awoke the next morning in the utter silence of the forest, continuing down the path. Rhys was quiet, not saying a word.

It wasn't long, perhaps an hour's walk, before they spotted it. The forest opened up into a clearing. And down the path was a charred, shattered arch, wrought of wood. Beyond it they could see the blackened, empty shells of houses burnt to the ground.

Rhys stopped walking, suddenly, beginning to shake. "I...I don't want to go back there," he whispered. "Please. I don't want to go back there, okay?" Suddenly, he looked up at Mythra, tears streaming down his face. "I'll wait here, okay? Don't make me go back there, okay? I-" And suddenly, he threw his arms around her, sobbing into her dress.

"Shhh," Mythra said, gently, patting the boy's head.

"I'll go check it out alone," Jin said quietly. "Look to see if I can't find any trail."

Mythra nodded. "I'll...stay here with Rhys. Who knows if there's any bandits still around." 

Jin nodded, his eyes darting cautiously around the forest. He unsheathed his blade and walked off towards the remains of the village, quiet as a cat.

Mythra wrapped her arms around the frantically sobbing Rhys, trying to soothe him. "I know," she murmured. "I know it's hard. I know. It must hurt so badly to have lost them. To have lost everything."

Rhys didn't answer, just twisting his hands into her dress, crying even harder. But after some time, he began to calm down, the hitching in his shoulders slowing, his breathing calming. He let go of her, wiping his eyes furiously, taking in a shuddering breath. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah. But...I guess I didn't lose everything. I still have my friends. I should be grateful for that."

Mythra closed her eyes. What a miserable, sick prison existence was. Where a child had to be grateful that not everyone he knew was murdered before his eyes.

"But I guess….I really do have nowhere to go anymore." Rhys sniffled, blinking back more tears that threatened to flow. Shyly, he twisted a foot in the dirt, looking up at Mythra, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to ask something, but didn't know how to say it. Finally, he stamped his foot, as if steeling himself. "I...I dunno where you guys are going but….when you go….can I go with you?"

Mythra looked down at him in surprise. "Wouldn't you miss your friends?"

"Yeah, but..." Rhys shook his head. "You guys are so strong. And you helped us so much. I...want to learn how to be strong like you. So I can come back and protect my friends." He shook his head, a bitter frown growing across it. "When we ran...I tried to protect them...but I was so scared all the time. We had to run from vvolfs, and we were starving, we probably would have died if you hadn't found us. I was so useless. I couldn't protect them from anything." Then he looked up at her, with shining eyes. "But if I was strong like you...none of this would have happened at all. I would have been able to defend the village. I swear, I wouldn't be a burden, I'll stay out of your way, and it wouldn't be forever, I just want to learn how to be strong-"

Mythra put a gentle hand on Rhys's shoulder. "I...there are other places you can learn to be strong, Rhys. And other people you can depend on to be strong for you."

"But I couldn't depend on them!" Rhys shouted, suddenly angry. "My parents, my whole village...they couldn't...I'm the one who has to be strong for my friends! It has to be me!"

He stared up at her in defiant anger. Mythra wasn't sure what to say to him. Fortunately, at that moment, Jin returned, melting in from the shadows of the forest. His blade was back in his sheathe, and he wore a grim expression on his face, darker than Mythra could remember seeing in a long time. She knew that expression. Jin wore it when he had witnessed something particularly abominable. She tried not to think about what Rhys must have seen take place in his village before he fled. "Savages," Jin spat, his voice cold fury. "Complete savages."

"Were you able to find a trail?" Mythra asked, turning away from Rhys.

"Yes. They didn't make much effort to cover their tracks. Follow me."

Jin led them off the trail, into the woods, keeping a wide berth around the village. He didn't say it, but Mythra knew it was for Rhys's sake that he was keeping the village out of sight. Suddenly, he pointed at a portion of the leaves in the forest floor. Mythra looked at him quizzically. "These leaves, see how they're tamped down?" Jin explained, quietly. "Many feet marched over these. Marching into the village."

"If you say so..." Mythra said, shrugging.

Jin gave her a flat stare, sighing. "Yes. I do say so. Come on, just follow me."

Jin led them deeper into the forest, further off the dirt path, following a trail that only he could see. It led them on a winding path through the woods that they followed for hours. Mythra began to wonder if they were losing the bandits, but Jin insisted that the trail was obvious. Suddenly, it led them to a small clearing in the forest. In the center of it were the charred remains of a fire, and surrounding it were some small, discarded, cooked bones. Arrows stuck out of trees, where the bandits had used them for target practice.

"They joined up with a much larger group here," Jin muttered, casting his eyes about the clearing. "Not just twenty men. I'd say closer to one hundred."

"One hundred men…?" Rhys said, fear creeping into his voice. His eyes darted about the forest. "Oh...oh, I'm sorry for bringing you out here. You can't fight that many, you..."

"Boy, you let us worry about how many we fight," Jin snapped. He was still furious about what he had seen in the village. Furious that Rhys had had to witness it. It had been a horror. Beheaded bodies, corpses tied to posts and used as target practice, all burnt beyond recognition. He wondered which of them had been Rhys's parents. "If twenty men couldn't hide from me, one hundred men certainly can't. Come on."

"Wait," Rhys said, tugging on Mythra's arm. "Wait, wait. Stop. You aren't going to fight that many. Please, let's get out of here. I don't want you dying too."

Mythra laughed softly. "Rhys, you said Jin and I were strong. Well, I think we're stronger than even you know. Do we look worried?"

"I..." Rhys shook his head.

"Don't worry. We'll take care of you. Come on."

Jin led them further into the forest. Eventually, the trees began to thin, opening up once more into the rolling hills and cliffs of Gormott's mountains. And there, like an ill omen, winding its way through the plains, around the hills and the gigantic boulders, was a well-beaten, wide dirt path, one used by many men. The sun had begun to set, bathing the plains in a deep red light.

Jin led them away from the path itself, winding around hills, dashing behind boulders, following the path and yet keeping it out of sight, to avoid being spotted by anyone who might be traveling along it. Fortunately, they spotted no one along it, not a soul. The path led them down from the heights of Gormott's mountains, descending, always descending.

Night had fallen when they reached the path's end. It was a large cave, the entrance nearly thirty feet across, bored into the side of the mountain, at the top of a plateau surrounded by a sheer cliff. Torches were ensconced in the rock next to the entrance, casting flickering orange circles of light into the night. As they watched from behind a large boulder, a couple hundred feet away, they saw a pair of bandits walk their way up the path, one carrying a spear, the other strapped about with half a dozen swords, entering the cave. But beyond that, not a soul.

"Well, this is it," Jin muttered quietly, popping his blade out of its sheathe. But Mythra placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"I'll handle this, Jin," she murmured quietly. "Please, stay here and watch Rhys. I don't want you straining yourself."

Jin's eyes shot open in shock, but he didn't say a word.

"You can't mean that you're going in there alone," Rhys hissed, his eyes wide. "You-you're gonna get killed! Please, miss-"

"I'll be fine," Mythra replied quietly, her eyes focused on the cave's entrance. "I...want to see. I'm curious." She shook her head, and whispered, so that neither of them could hear, "About myself."

And she strode off into the night, disappearing into the shadow.

**5.**

She made no attempt to hide as she approached the cave, walking boldly up the main path, strolling directly into the flickering orange light cast by the torches. She could hear rowdy, coarse laughter echoing from within the depths of the cave, shouting, the roaring of rough, dangerous men echoing up from the depths. Whoever these bandits were, they had grown fat, lazy and complacent plundering the land. They had set no guard, no lookout for anyone approaching the cave.

She entered the cave, following a long, winding tunnel lined with yet more torches. The smell of burnt, cooked meat wafted up to her from below. The men must have settled in for the night, because she came across no one walking along the tunnel. She did come across a stack of a few crates lined against the wall of the tunnel, a little ways in, each one perhaps three feet across. She looked at these, curiously. Then, glancing around, she raised one white-gloved hand and blasted the top off one with a flash of light.

Within, packed within straw, were a few core crystals. Mythra nodded. _This _was probably why the bandits were headed to Torigoth, in the end. To sell off the core crystals to the Ardainians. It looked like they had quite the collection here. Probably worth at least a few million. In times of war, blades fetched a high price.

She continued down the tunnel, the echoing yells growing louder and louder as she did. Suddenly, quicker than she had expected, it opened up into a large, wide chamber, crawling with men. She dashed behind a rock outcropping to avoid being spotted, and peaked out from behind it to examine the situation.

Jin had been correct in his estimates. There were roughly a hundred men here, and a dozen of them with blades. All of them rough, muscular, wicked-looking, dressed in furs and leathers. Their plunders lined the chamber – woven rugs, gold, tables lined with baubles and personal possessions they had stolen from those they murdered. In the center of the chamber was a large bonfire, a hunk of unidentifiable meat roasting over it. And lording over it all, as the men argued and brawled, on a makeshift throne carved into the rock and lined with furs and blankets, was a large Gormotti man, his mane thick, nearly halfway down his back. At his side stood a blade with striking green eyes and long, windswept white hair, wearing loose white shorts and very little else, a greataxe at her side, looking bored. This must be the chieftain of the bandits. As she watched, he tore a greasy bite from a hunk of meat, chasing it down with a great gulp of wine from an uncorked bottle.

She was still pondering this, still wondering how to handle the situation, when a conversation from a nearby pair of bandits caught her ear. 

"Hey, Rus. Didn't see you get back." A lithe man, little more than ten feet away from her, was talking to a much thicker, more stout bandit, currently picking his teeth with a bone.

"Yeah. Me and the boys just got back from hitting the Borvald place. You know, the lumber camp."

Mythra's eyes widened, and she clasped a hand to her mouth to stop her from gasping in shock. The Borvalds. That was who they had left the other children with.

The skinnier man whistled. "Borvald's, eh? You better watch out. That's getting awfully close to Torigoth."

"Yeah, well. It's getting pretty slim pickins around here." The fatter man sighed, taking a swig from a wine bottle. "Not like they had much, anyway. Just some cash. Barely worth the effort of killing them."

Mythra put her hands to her head, her vision blurring. "No," she whispered to herself. "No, no, no."

"You really killed them all?" The skinnier man put his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

"Yeah, of course. By the way, I got a bone to pick with you about that, Nick. They had some kids with them that I recognized from that village we hit up a few weeks back. The one you led the raid on?"

Nick tsked irritably. "I let those kids go for a reason. It's no fun killing children."

"I don't like it any more than you do. But the boss says to leave no one alive for a reason. Imagine if those kids had made it all the way back to Torigoth, told people about us? I had to be the one to handle your dirty work."

Nick looked away, pain crossing his face. "Ah. Man. Really?" He spat on the cave floor. "Shit."

"Not like I enjoyed it, Nick. But next time, do your job properly. It was a close call. Little buggers ran fast, nearly got away from me, too." Rus sighed. "Whatever. What's done is done."

"Fine. I owe you a bottle of wine."

Mythra was doubled over behind the rock outcropping, tears flowing down her face. Her head throbbed. She felt sick to her stomach, like she might throw up at any moment. In her mind, visions of the children's faces danced before her. The little friends Rhys had wanted so badly to protect. The friends that were all he had left in the world. The small girl that had given him an affectionate kiss on the cheek before he had left.

"Oh, Father," she sobbed, leaning back against the rock outcropping. "Oh, why did you make it this way?"

Slowly, she got to her feet, and stepped out from behind the outcropping, stepping out into the light of the chamber, walking slowly, so slowly. Her eyes flashed fury, glowing with inner light, two beacons in the darkness.

"Hey-hey, what the hell? INTRUDER," snapped a bandit, drawing his sword as she stepped into the chamber. Heads spun around to look at the source of the shouting. "Lady, you can't be here. You got a death wish?"

Mythra ignored him, continuing her slow walk to the center of the chamber.

The bandit shrugged, swinging his sword at her head. It bounced off her ether shield. He might as well have been striking stone. He stared at his sword, then at her, in wonder, and with a yell, continued trying to hack at her.

And suddenly the whole chamber was a flurry of activity. Men rushed towards her, roaring, brandishing weapons, trying fruitlessly to hack through her ether shield. Crossbow bolts clattered harmlessly against it, falling to the ground.

The Chieftain rose to his feet, stumbling drunkenly from his throne, his eyes flashing at her as she made her way through the chamber. "Zenobia," he snapped at the blade next to him. "This seem like enough of a challenge for you?"

"Sure does, boss," his blade said, giving a wicked smile, hefting her greataxe, bigger than it seemed possible for someone of her slim build to lift. She dashed across the chamber, bringing the axe down on Mythra's shield with a mighty yell, her expression changing to one of fear as it harmlessly bounced off the ether shield.

Finally, Mythra reached the center of the chamber. She took a deep breath, looking at the faces of the men surrounding her, some of them still trying to hack through her shield, some of them just looking on in fear. "**ENOUGH**," she roared.

And light burst from her, radiating, shaking the entire chamber, sending men and blade alike flying, slamming into walls, toppling to their knees, falling to the ground.

Mythra slowly walked forward, stepping over the confused and dazed men, walking towards the chieftain as he tried desperately to stagger to his feet. She reached out, grabbing the sides of his head, lifting him bodily off the floor. He struggled against her, gasping, but her arms were like steel bars. "Zenobia!" he cried, as Mythra's mad eyes bored into him, and he felt fear fill his heart. "Zenobia, help-"

"Boss!" Zenobia cried, hefting her greataxe again. "You bitch, put my boss down-"

Mythra glanced at her, and the light pouring from her eyes roared, hellish, boiling light, and Zenobia sank to her knees as it sank into her bones, crippling her.

"It's so strange," Mythra whispered to the chieftain as he moaned in fear, still struggling against her immovable grip. "But then again...is it really? She loves you. She was made to love you. As a blade. But it's not just blades." She cast her eyes over the men in the chamber, all of them looking at her in fear. Tears of liquid light rolled down her face. "We were made to love. We were all made to love." She turned back to the chieftain, a bitter smile spreading across her face. "Even you. _Even in you, _I can see the beauty. The awful beauty. I can see how she adores you. How she fears for you. And yes...you love her too. Oh, if only I could pretend you didn't. If only I could pretend the wicked of the world were loveless creatures, devoid of any beauty. But you love her. Don't you?" She nodded toward Zenobia, who lay prone on the floor, struggling just to get to her knees. "Tell her."

"B-boss," Zenobia gasped, looking up at the chieftain with tears in her eyes. She looked to Mythra. "Please. Please don't hurt him. Please. He's mine. He's my boss."

"Tell her," Mythra whispered, ignoring the blade. "It's your last chance."

The chieftain gulped in fear, tears streaming down his face, his eyes never leaving Mythra's. "Zenobia," he called, "I-I do. It's true. I love you."

"Boss," Zenobia sobbed, reaching out toward him. "Oh, Architect. Eric, I love you too. Oh please, don't hurt him. Don't do this." She struggled to get to her feet, collapsing again. "Please. I love him so much, please-"

"Why are you doing this," the chieftain whispered, as Mythra smiled and nodded, closing her eyes. 

"It's so I can't lie to myself," Mythra said, opening her eyes again, the light in them drowning out the world, "About the suffering I am about to cause."

And light radiated out from her, blinding everything, swallowing her and the chieftain. Zenobia struggled to her feet, screaming, rushing towards the light, ignoring the awful, radiating heat of it, trying desperately to reach her driver.

And finally the light subsided, and Mythra was left standing at the center. At her feet was a pile of ashes. In her hands was a charred, blackened skull. She dropped this to the floor, where it shattered.

"Oh..." Zenobia fell to her knees, closing her eyes. "It hurts so much," she whispered. And then with a flash of light, she vanished, leaving nothing but her core.

Mythra shuddered as Zenobia's pain flowed into her, the feelings she had had, the awful horror of those final moments. Yes. She deserved this. This constant, endless reminder of the sick, mad world Father had built. She deserved every last second of this torture.

"Holy Architect," she heard a voice call from the chamber. "She killed the chief. Hell's bells, RUN!"

Mythra idly lifted a hand, and suddenly the entrance to the chamber was sealed off by a wall of blinding, scintillating light. One of the bandits tried running through the wall, and was immediately disintegrated in a blinding flash of hellish light, leaving nothing but floating ash and cinder. And suddenly the chamber was full of panicked shouting, screams, as men clawed at the walls. With a wave of her hand, another wave of force rocked the chamber, throwing them back to their knees, silencing the screams.

"I didn't want this," Mythra said, her voice carrying over the groans, as she stepped down from the throne. "I...don't want anyone to be hurt. I really, really don't. But...that's all you're ever going to do, isn't it? Hurt people. Cause suffering." She shook her head, her blonde hair beginning to float around her as she began to glow. "And it's so awful. Because maybe some of you were never given a chance to know anything else. And even you, oh yes, even you, child killers, know the beauty of love. Maybe some of you are good. You have family, friends, people who love you so, so much. Even your deaths will hurt this sad, broken world." Her eyes glowed even brighter, radiating light outward. "I want you to know...I don't hate you for it. I don't blame you for it. Because causing suffering is all I know how to do, too."

Screams filled the chamber once more as the heat, the boiling light from Mythra grew more intense, filling the world, filling everything.

"This time," Mythra whispered to herself, "I know exactly what I'm doing."

Finally, the light subsided. Mythra sank to her knees in the middle of the chamber, weeping. The walls of the cave were blackened, charred, partially melted with the heat. Where there had formerly been men, there was nothing but ash. All the personal belongings, the tables, the chairs, were ash as well. Where there had been gold, it was running together in great, melted lumps and puddles. She screamed as she felt the pain of the blades in the chamber flow into her, flashes of images, last, final moments of indescribable horror and loss.

Finally, gasping, she got to her feet, walking through the ash, the destruction. On her way out of the cave, she paused by the crates containing core crystals. After a moment's thought, she picked one up.

**6.**

Jin and Rhys watched the cave from a distance as Mythra walked into it. Jin had to hold Rhys down as he leapt up in shock, bright, white light began radiating from it, pouring out into the night, lighting it up nearly as clear as day. He could hear within it, beneath the strange humming of the light, the screams of horror. "Don't look directly at it," he cautioned Rhys, covering his eyes. And as the screams grew louder, he covered the boy's ears, as well, as the light roared and the world shook with Mythra's awful might, pulling him into a tight embrace. He shouldn't have to hear those screams.

Moments later, Mythra emerged from the cave, standing in the orange light still cast by the torches. She stood still, staring at the sky.

Jin and Rhys rushed towards her. As he drew closer, Jin could see that she was weeping, as hard and as desperately as he had ever seen.

"Did you do it? Did you kill them?" Rhys shouted, as he drew close to her.

Mythra looked down at him, her eyes empty, hollow. "Yes," she said simply.

Rhys jumped for joy, pumping a fist in the air. "Yes! Those bastards! I wanna see!" He made to move past her, to rush into the cave.

Mythra reached out, laying a hand on his shoulder. "No," she whispered, "You don't." She knelt down to face him, giving him a crooked smile. "I have a gift for you, Rhys. You said you wanted to be strong." She held up the core crystal she had taken from the cave. "This will help you be strong."

"Mythra, what are you doing…?" Jin asked, as she handed the core crystal to the boy. This...Pyra definitely wouldn't have done this. Pyra always advised against bonding with blades. She never forbade it – Torna was a group of friends, not a dictatorship, as she insisted – but her advice was always to never bond. That no matter how beautiful the bond could be, in the end it would bring you nothing but pain.

Mythra rose, and leaned in to Jin's ear, whispering. His eyes widened. He looked at Rhys, then looked away, shaking his head.

"Hopefully, things will end," Mythra said quietly to him, "Before it hurts the boy."

"Wow...a blade of my own…?" Rhys asked, wonderingly. "I...how do I…."

"Just close your eyes," Mythra told him, trying her best to hide her sorrow, "And concentrate."

The boy did as she asked, closing his eyes, holding the core out in front of him. Slowly, a gentle blue light began pulsing from the core, softly illuminating his features in the night. And with a flash of light, and a burst of sparks, the core blossomed, light spilling forth from it, slowly resolving its shape, morphing, until…

A small girl with a bandolier of bombs and white and black striped hair burst forth into the night, sparks shooting from two small horns in her hair. She wore a white shirt, wound about with all sorts of alchemical equipment, and a small black and white skirt. Large, metal, insulated gloves covered her hands. Her ears were elongated, sharp.

"I'm...Crossette!" She said, her eyes snapping open, smiling. She looked around, excitedly, then down at Rhys. "And you must be my new driver!"

Rhys stared up at her in awe. "I...are those _bombs?" _he asked, finally.

"Oh boy, are these bombs, he says. You better believe they're bombs."

"_Awesome,_" Rhys said.

"This girl….will help you be strong, Rhys," Mythra said. "And...she will also be your friend."

"Yep! As your blade, it's my job to protect you, little guy. I won't let you down. WHOA, DON'T TOUCH THAT HOLD ON-" Crossette said, panicking as Rhys began toying with one of the bombs he had plucked from her belt. "I'll, ah, I'll show you how to use that later."

"Rhys," Mythra continued, quietly, "Would you like to come with us?"

"What-really?!" Rhys staggered backwards, nearly falling over in his excitement.

"I thought it over. I realized you were right. You...you need to be the strong one."

"Oh Architect, thank you, thank you, thank you," Rhys babbled, his eyes shining brightly in the night. "You've….you've done so much for me...and..." Suddenly he blinked, his eyes holding back tears. Crossette instinctively threw an arm around his shoulder. "I...I'm so lucky to have met you." He sighed, breathing in deep. "Can...can we go back so I can say goodbye to my friends?"

Jin looked away. Mythra drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "No," she whispered quietly. "No, unfortunately, we've….got to leave soon."

"Oh." Rhys pushed his fingers together, then shrugged. "Well, I can always write them."

"I've called the Monoceros," Jin said, still not looking at Rhys. "I told Akhos to come pick us up on this side of Gormott. He…." he shook his head. "He said Patroka and Mikhail's mission did not go well. When we get back, we should discuss...what we plan to do next."

"Yes," said Mythra, simply, still looking at Rhys. She hoped that Jin's next plan was good enough to stop the war.

Because this time, she knew exactly what she was doing.

**Note **

A major inspiration for this chapter was Max Richter – Something Under Her Skin

As always, please comment if you read this


	20. Chapter 20

**7.**

Nia was standing in front of her sister's casket, looking down at her corpse.

She looked...peaceful. So much like Nia herself. Pale, surrounded by the flowers that Nia had picked for her to say goodbye. She seemed almost...happy. A small smile played across her face, and the bright sunlight pouring through the window made it seem almost as if she was just napping in a bed of flowers. But she was gone. The sister Nia had known her whole life, that she had cared for, laughed with, loved with, would never open her eyes again.

Guilt tore through Nia, like a tidal wave. She had been...born to try to help her sister. And she had failed. The one thing she had been meant to do, for the driver who had been so kind to her, who had treated her like a member of the family, who had always treated her well, shown her so much love, and she had failed.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and knew it was her driver. She didn't turn around to face him. She could feel his grief, pouring off him in waves, even before she could hear his wracked sobs.

"Oh, Nia," he whispered, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. He had been drinking heavily since his daughter had passed away. "Oh, why couldn't you help her?"

Nia felt hot tears spring to her face, and the world spun around her. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed. She spun around, trying to embrace her driver. But she found he was a figure of smoke and shadow, slipping through her arms, flickering, reforming a few feet away from her. She could feel the disappointment, the disdain he had for her flowing to her through her ether bond, and it cut through her like a knife.

"Didn't you love her?" the shadowy figure of her driver asked, grief thick in his voice. "Oh, she adored you, Nia..."

Nia sank to her knees, her head filling with gray fog. The world felt flat, unreal, beneath the magnitude of her grief. "I did, I did love her, I tried, I'm sorry, I know I'm bad, please-"

The shadowy figure sighed, falling into a rich, velvet sofa that decorated the mourning room, putting its head in its hands, its shoulders hitching with sobs for what seemed like an eternity. _He doesn't love me anymore, _Nia thought to herself. _And why would he? How could he? _

"There's nothing left," the shadowy figure murmured finally, lifting his head up, staring at her with two eyes that were piercing, cold lights in the darkness. "Nothing left but her memory. And even that will fade, eventually. No one will remember my precious little girl."

"I will! I swear I will, I swear, I'll always remember her-" but even as Nia's words tumbled from her mouth, she knew this was a lie. She was a blade. She'd forget as soon as her driver died. Forget everything. Never even know that her sister had ever existed. Fresh tears flowed from her eyes as the realization dawned on her. She didn't want to forget. She wanted to remember her sister, forever. "Oh Architect, I'm so awful, I'm so sorry..."

The shadowy figure was silent for a long time. "There...is a way. A way for you to remember her forever." And the room around him grew darker, the shadows lengthening.

"There is….? Yes! Yes, I'll do it, whatever it is, please, I don't want to forget her." Nia stretched her hand out towards the shadow, not noticing the growing darkness. _I want you to love me again._

The shadowy figure stared at her, as the room sank into darkness, melting into it, his eyes two beacons, like twin candle flames in the dark, that eventually winked out.

_You sick nothing._

Nia slowly turned around. The world was complete darkness around her. All except for her sister's casket. Nia watched in horror as her sister's hand suddenly shot up, gripping the side, pulling herself out of the casket.

Only...she didn't look as she had before. Her white funeral dress was soaked red with blood, draining down from a large, wet spot on her chest. And her face...it didn't look like her sister's either. Oh, it was her sister's face, alright. But on it was an expression of disgust, hatred, that her sister's had never worn.

"You selfish, sick animal," her sister said, stepping down from the casket, walking towards where Nia knelt, frozen, in the middle of the void. "It wasn't enough that you killed me. You also had to kill your father, too. After all he had done for you."

"I didn't kill Da'!" Nia cried, scrambling backwards, away from her sister. "He...he drank himself to death, he..."

"Oh? And you couldn't have stopped that?" Her sister's face contorted into a twisted sneer. "With me, you had an excuse. But with him, you had all the power in the world at your fingertips to heal. All that healing you supposedly love to do. And you couldn't save him."

"I...I didn't know how!" Nia sobbed, her vision blurring with tears. "I swear, I would have if I could, I loved him! I loved you both so much! You don't…." Nia clutched her core crystal. It was as if pain and guilt and despair were radiating to her directly from it. "You have no idea how much I loved you," she whispered.

"Excuses. Always making excuses." Nia's sister stepped closer to her, jabbing an accusing finger toward her. "It's not enough that you killed us both. Now you want to forget us, too."

"I don't, I swear, I never want to forget you-"

"Don't _**LIE **__to me," _Nia's sister roared, her voice a thousand howls of hungry wolves, the world shaking around her in a quake from her rage. "Don't lie to yourself. I've seen it. You've made some new friends. And you have someone you think you love."

In the darkness behind her, smoke rose, billowing. As it cleared, Rex appeared, a small smile on his face, staring off into nothing. Nia's sister turned to consider this, her arms crossed. "You want to forget us, and think that you actually deserve to be happy," she whispered softly. "You want to let him love you, and think that you're going to do anything other than hurt him. You don't really love him. If you did, you'd leave the poor boy alone."

Nia finally forced herself to her feet, her legs shaking beneath her. "N-no. Maybe I am selfish. Maybe I am an awful person. Maybe...it _would _be better if...I just left Rex alone. But I wouldn't hurt him."

Nia's sister turned to face her, her eyes now howling pits of shadow. "But you already have. Through your failures. You killed Vandham."

Nia clenched her fists, steeling herself, closing her eyes. Finally, she opened them, staring down this….thing. It wasn't her sister. It couldn't be. "N-no," she said, uncertain at first, but then gaining more determination. "No. I didn't. And I didn't kill you, either. Or Da'. I...maybe I could...have done more, for Vandham. If I hadn't been so scared. But I didn't kill him." She lifted her head, remembering Morag's words to her. She wasn't crazy, or selfish. She had friends who had told her it wasn't her fault, and...she believed them. At least, she thought she did.

Nia's sister stared at her for a long, long time. "How _dare _you," she whispered, finally. "You really _do _want to forget me. After telling father that you wanted to remember. His final wish was just for me to be remembered, and you _can't even keep that one simple promise. __How can you live with yourself?"_

Guilt tore through Nia once more, and she looked down, gasping, as the world spun around her yet again, despair, sadness washing through her like a wave.

"_How can you possibly bear to go on, knowing the things you've done? The complete failure you are? How petty, selfish, ugly you are? You don't deserve to live, let alone to have happiness. Why don't you do the one good thing you possibly could do, and end it-"_

"Stop," Nia muttered. She looked up at her sister, her eyes flashing defiantly. "No. Stop it. Stop."

Nia's sister fell silent, and considered her for a long moment, tilting her head. Finally, she looked back toward Rex. "Such a noble boy," she whispered. "So ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good. You really know how to pick them, Nia."

Suddenly, the darkness shifted, and there, standing behind Rex, in his glittering black armor, was Malos, cruel smirk playing across his face. It grew as Nia watched, contorting into a wicked grin, sharp, monstrous teeth revealed behind it.

"You can't save him, you know," Nia's sister murmured. "No more than you could save me. Or father."

Suddenly Rex turned around to face Malos, a bright, innocent smile growing across his face. With a burst of black flame, a dark sword appeared in Malos' hands. He rose it, slowly, deliberately, above his head, black flame dripping from his eyes, his open, monstrous mouth.

"No, no. No." Nia tried stepping forward, but found her feet rooted to the ground. "No, for Architect's sake, stop, _stop-"_

"_He's going to die screaming, and he'll thank Malos for the opportunity. Even if you think you deserve happiness, the Architect and the world know you don't. And they'll take everything from you."_

Malos' sword flashed down, and Rex's body crumpled to the ground at his feet.

"No," Nia gasped, struggling to move forward. "Let me...let me, I can heal him, I can-"

"You can't do anything." Nia's sister said, walking toward her. With every step she took, she grew larger, taller than Nia, taller than a house, hundreds of feet tall, the whole world. "_You never could. You'll let him die, just like you let me die. Like you let father die. Because you fail everyone you love, and you kill them. And I won't ever, ever let you forget it."_

And suddenly, the world froze. Smoke curled upwards at the edges of Nia's vision. With a mighty roar, a massive wave of flame washed over everything, white-hot, orange, yellow blossoms, washing away everything, burning away everything, and the flame curled around Nia but did not burn her, howling, hissing, sputtering-

And when the flame cleared, there was nothing but darkness once more. Nothing but darkness, and Pyra. The Aegis stared down at Nia with sad, mournful, pitying eyes.

Nia struggled to her feet once more, still unsteady, guilt and despair and sadness still roiling within her. She shook her head, trying to clear it, then glared up at Pyra. "You," she spat. "Was it...how dare you. How _dare _you show me those things...oh, Architect..." she clutched her chest, spinning around as she was unable to stop the tears from falling. It hurt, it all hurt so much.

"I didn't show you anything," Pyra said softly, approaching her. "That...was all your own mind. I'm so sorry, Nia."

"Don't you look," Nia gasped, her mind buzzing. Rage, shame, horror, guilt, all roiled within her, making it nearly impossible to think. "How...how dare you spy on me..." She put her hands to her face. "Stop _crying_, you stupid idiot," she muttered to herself. She growled, stomping away, when Pyra reached out to touch her shoulder. "Don't you...don't….go away..."

Pyra stood, quietly, her head bowed, as Nia wrapped her arms around herself, breathing heavily, heaving as the emotions roiled through her, until she could think somewhat clearly once more. She scrubbed her eyes furiously, hiding the tears, until she spun around to face Pyra once more. "Get...get out, Pyra," she snapped. "Stop coming into my dreams."

Pyra looked up, her eyes full of so much despair it actually made Nia pause. "I'm sorry, Nia. I really am. I wouldn't come to you if I didn't think I had to. But...Mythra's in control, Jin's dreams are too guarded to make my way into...I have a connection to Malos, but he's shut me out, I keep trying...you're the only one I can reach."

"And why would you want to reach me?"

Pyra was quiet for a moment, looking down at the blank void between her feet. "I...the reason Mythra...constructed me...was so that she could...cut herself off. I can only use a fraction of her power. But in return, I only feel...a fraction of what she feels. By choking off the connection, I don't...feel the awful suffering of the world the way she does." She raised a hand to her core crystal, closing her eyes. "It...gives me the ability to be...disciplined. To be the calm she needs. The clear thinking she needs. But now that she's….inhabiting the body….oh, Nia, she can feel _everything._"

"...What is it she's feeling? What are you talking about?" Nia asked, cautiously.

Pyra looked up at her, despairing, as if she couldn't properly understand. "Mythra...she has a connection to the world. We both do, but hers is much deeper. She can...I couldn't possibly make you understand. Everything….everything you felt in your dream. Imagine feeling that, a hundred times, almost all the time. I can only see a shadow of it, but even that..." Pyra shook her head. "It's...she can't live like this. She...can't hold on."

Nia didn't know what to say. Pyra had her arms wrapped around herself, shivering, quaking. This….Nia had thought of Mythra and Pyra as the same person, but it seemed more and more like they were actually separate entities.

"I'm so sorry to put this burden on you," Pyra whispered miserably. "I...know you have troubles of your own. And I won't lecture you on how you choose to live, who you choose to make connections to. It's just, I share memories, feelings...even thoughts, with Mythra, to some extent...and I...she can't bear this world. It's driving her to sickness. I'm so afraid." She looked up, tears rolling down her face. "Just...please, tell Malos not to hesitate to stop her."

Nia, despite herself, managed to summon a small, wry smile. "What makes you think he ever would?"

"He already is," Pyra whispered. "You really don't know him, Nia. How he was during the Aegis War. He would do anything, anything to stop me. If he wasn't hesitating, he'd be hunting me right now." Her eyes bored into Nia's, and Nia could see the fear, the horror and sadness there. "Do you understand? He has to be ready. Mythra...her thoughts, they're…."

Suddenly, the void around them was banished, as if by the flick of a switch, and a burning, liquid golden light surrounded them, pouring in from everywhere.

"She's looking this way," Pyra cried. She reached a hand out to Nia, even as Nia felt herself being torn away through the endless expanse of light. "Tell Malos! Tell him to be on guard!"

Nia awoke, gasping, thrashing about in her bed. Her core crystal burned in her chest, like a hot coal. Dromarch lay across her, keeping her from thrashing herself straight of the bed, shouting her name.

Slowly, the panic faded from Nia, as she realized where she was. She was in one of the apartments on Fan's spacious ship, all the walls a creamy shell-white, moonlight pouring in through the window as they cruised silently across the Cloud sea. She felt exhausted, her face wet with tears, her body drained, aching from the adrenaline that had been pumping through her system, feeling hollow and numb. Her arms snaked around Dromarch, gripping his fur as he nuzzled into her. "Oh Architect, Dromarch," she whispered. "I just want it to stop."

She squeezed him tight, breathing into the scent of his fur, until the storm of feelings within her subsided a bit. After an hour or so, she found herself unable to get back to sleep, still. "Ugh," she muttered eventually. "Just want a good night's sleep, and look what I have to put up with."

She gently prodded Dromarch, moving him off of her, and got out of bed, standing on shaking, unsteady legs. She sighed as she stepped into her jumpsuit, zipping it up, pulling her boots on.

"Where is my lady going?" Dromarch yawned, tail flicking curiously. "It's still barely past midnight."

"I just...I want some fresh air. Just….gotta clear my head, is all."

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

Nia smiled ruefully. She knew what Dromarch was thinking. He had been extremely protective of her ever since she had run off in Fonsa Myma. It...she could never be truly angry at Dromarch. But it would be a lie to say it didn't get on her nerves, sometimes. "No, no, it's alright. I'll be back soon enough."

Nia left her room, breathing in the cool night hair, calming as it filled her lungs. The moon hung low, huge in the sky, casting its pale blue light over the cloud sea, which extended in all directions to the horizon. The movement of Fan's ship was barely perceptible.

She walked along the wooden deck, trailing her hands across the smooth, carved surfaces of the arched overhang casting shadows above her. Flowers were woven around the poles, pink and yellow.

"Ah, you couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Nia yelped, nearly jumping out of her skin, at the voice coming from just a foot behind her. She spun around to glare at Rex, who was having a hard time holding in his laughter. "Oh...Oh man. You jumped like three feet there. That's actually impressive."

"What do you think you're doing, sneaking up on me?" she snapped, recovering.

"It was just perfect timing. My cabin's right there." Rex turned around, pointing to the open door behind him. "I just opened the door and boom, you were right there."

Nia sighed, folding her arms. "Well, why can't you sleep?"

"I dunno, really." Rex scratched his head, then shrugged. "I keep having nightmares. I can never remember them, though. Just wake up with blood pumping and can't get back to sleep." As he usually did, Rex sounded glibly unconcerned about this all. Nia wished he'd be a bit more introspective sometimes – maybe ask _why _he was having the nightmares. But on the other hand...it was something she kind of appreciated about him. Rex would never make a mountain out of a molehill. "What about you?"

Nia's eyes widened, and she looked away. "Ah. You know. Same thing. Nightmares. Can't remember, and all that. Yeah." She found herself unable to look at Rex. The guilt, the shame, the horror of her nightmare...she was...too numb from the pain of it to feel those things anymore. And she had been telling herself the past hour that it was just a silly nightmare. Though she didn't know what Pyra had meant when she showed up. But she...didn't want to think about what it meant for her fears regarding Rex. Not right now.

Rex raised an eyebrow at her, dubiously. "Well, c'mon. I found a cool spot to relax at when I can't sleep."

Rex led her around the ship, climbing up a ladder to the top deck. It was bathed completely in moonlight, and in the center of the deck, otherwise bare, were a pair of lounging chairs. It offered an amazing view of the night sky, the thousands of stars winking at them through the moonlit night, and off in the distance, a faint green glow, the World Tree.

Rex kicked back, laying across one of the lounging chairs, and Nia took the one next to him. They both stared at the night sky in silence, the stars streaming down at them. Nia glanced over at Rex. He was absorbed completely in the night sky.

"You know," Rex said quietly, after a moment, "Some salvagers….they've found stuff from other civilizations, yeah? Old ones. Really old ones, nobody knows where from. But they've found stuff that shows that those civilizations...they used to travel to the stars. There's other worlds out there, other planets, and we used to go to them. I wonder about that, a lot, when I'm up here."

Nia was quiet for a long moment. "Well, _I_ wonder whether Fan comes up here to sunbathe naked," she said slyly.

"_What," _Rex said, blushing furiously.

Nia laughed. Messing with Rex always cheered her up. "Well I mean, come on. She has this big ship, she's out on the Cloud Sea all alone, days at a time. Seems like a good time to work on a full-body tan, you know?"

"You are so dirty-minded. I'm sure miss Fan doesn't do anything of the sort."

"Oh, come on. Nothing dirty about a little nude sunbathing." Nia put her hands behind her head, stretching out as she leaned back. "I mean, I'd do it."

Rex's blush grew even deeper, and he looked away.

Nia leaned over, grinning mischievously. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"Am not," Rex muttered. He glared over at her, then resolutely pinned his gaze on the night sky. "I'm thinking about stars."

"Pfft. Yeah, sure. The stars are turning your face all red like that."

"Hmmph. You know, if you really want to do that, you might get your chance in Leftheria. There are some beaches where folks go nude there."

"Oh, that so? You ever been to one?"

Rex shot her a mischievous smirk. "I may have," he said airily.

Now it was Nia's turn to blush. "Oh, shut up. No you haven't."

"What's the matter? Thinking about it?"

Nia laughed, looking at Rex while he beamed at her. She thought back to her dream. Of Malos' sword flashing down, of Pyra telling her to tell Malos to be ready, and frowned, looking down. Maybe...it would be best if she didn't tell Malos anything at all. She shivered, suddenly.

"Ah, yeah. It can get a bit brisk out here at night." Rex reached beneath his lounge chair, producing a folded blanket. "I bought this up here to stay warm. Here."

"Oh. Thanks." Nia took the blanket, spreading it out. "But now you don't have anything."

"Ahhh, I'm fine, really."

"Oh, will you shut up. I can see you shivering. We can share it, just c'mon, push these chairs together..."

Dromarch prowled the ship, his eyes wide in the darkness, glancing around, sniffing. Nia had never come back to her room, and so he had gone looking for her, following her scent. It led him upwards, towards the top deck of the ship. He glanced at the ladder with disdain, drew himself in, his muscles twitching with energy, and with one mighty, graceful leap, cleared the length of the ladder, landing silently on the top deck.

He glanced around. _There_ Nia was. She was with Rex. As he approached, he could see they were both wrapped up beneath a shared blanket, laying on lounge chairs pushed together to make a makeshift bed. They were both sleeping, Nia resting her head on Rex's chest, while Rex had his arms wrapped around her, both snoring softly.

"Hmmmph," Dromarch growled to himself. He padded around in circles at the foot of their little makeshift bed, tail flicking back and forth, then finally curled up into a ball, sighing, and closed his eyes.

**8****.**

The ride through the Cloud Sea on Fan's barge was a smooth, comforting one. Unlike the loud, roaring engines and modified Titans of Ardainian craft, designed purely for power, the Indoline craft was designed to make the ride a pleasant experience, and the Titan powering the ship was encased at the core, within a shell, no wires or cables attached – Haze would visit it, murmuring softly to it, feeding it, and it seemed happy to go wherever she directed it.

Morag spent her days gazing longingly across the cloud sea, back in the direction of Mor Ardain. It seemed so...surreal, what had happened while she was there. She had known things were bad, but...it was like she had come back just in time to see the death throes of the republic. It was probably no coincidence, of course. Brionac had probably been waiting for her to come back so they could make an attempt on her life as well.

But still. To be there in Mor Ardain, to see all the ugliness and horror, to see those butchers rise to power, and then to leave her little brother alone there, with them...she should have insisted on staying. She really should have. Or….or maybe even….just take Niall, and abandon Mor Ardain. It would have killed her inside, to have left her country at the complete mercy of those lunatics. But there was no solution, and if she had just taken Niall with her, at least she'd be able to ensure her little brother was safe.

Going off, to chase after Elysium, instead...did her brother honestly believe that going after Elysium was a good course of action? Well, of course he did. He had told her that he believed it was, and Niall wouldn't lie to her. Still, it seemed all...too strange, to Morag. Yes….Malos was the Aegis, certainly, and he swore that Elysium was real, and that they could get there. But it still seemed all too much like myth, to Morag. It still felt like she was abandoning her brother in his time of need to go chasing after fairy tales.

Speaking of her brother…

Morag glanced down the deck of the ship. Nia stood with her arms crossed, talking with Poppi and Pandy, looking slightly annoyed. It looked like Pandy was trying to convince Nia to try on her small hat. "It looks daft," Nia snapped at her, as Morag watched on impassively.

Morag...still hadn't properly thanked Nia for saving her brother. She had given her a restrained, silent thank you, certainly. But the truth was...Morag wasn't certain how to talk to Nia anymore. She was so much in her debt. Nia had healed her, bought her back from being battered and bruised within an inch of her life, even while they had been enemies. And now, she had healed her brother. No, more than simply healed. The girl might downplay it, but Morag had seen the wounds in her brother's chest up close. And Aegaeon...poor Aegaeon had retreated back into his crystal. Blades didn't do that when their drivers were merely 'hurt.' Niall had to have been a mere hair's breadth from death when Nia healed him. There was nothing, nothing Morag could ever do to thank Nia enough.

She had tried talking to Brighid about it. Her blade and the young Gormotti girl….they seemed to have gotten closer during their time in Alba Cavanich. Morag had been slightly surprised by this. Brighid...she knew Brighid well. Brighid was mature, graceful, reserved and disciplined by nature. Methodical. Nia had always struck Morag as a more...passionate, rough and tumble type. Perhaps a bit immature, with how she liked to tease Rex. She hadn't thought that the two would necessarily get along so well. Brighid had only told her that what Nia needed more than anything was friends.

Morag sighed, looking back out across the Cloud Sea. She would have to do her best to try talking to Nia once more. Right now….it felt shameful how much in debt she was to the girl.

"Hey, Morag. How are you holding up?" 

Morag glanced to her side. It was Zeke, who had taken up the spot next to her, leaning over the railing, gazing out across the Cloud Sea as she was.

"It could be better, I suppose," Morag sighed, looking back out at the endless expanse of gray fog. Zeke...had a way of getting on her nerves. He had ever since they were children, really. To Morag, he had always seemed like everything royalty should not be – unserious, carefree. Getting himself banished, and not caring about his duty. And going on to live like a mercenary – royalty, peddling itself as mercenary, to the highest bidder, instead of serving the people of his nation. It had always gotten on Morag's nerves. But…

"Zeke," she said, quietly, not looking over at him, "I...wanted to apologize to you."

He looked over at her, his one good eye widening in surprise. "Apologize? To me? What for?"

"I...was always harsh with you. I...how you had been banished...I didn't, I guess I couldn't imagine how a government could ever go so wrong that its own royalty might...abandon it." Morag shook her head, ruefully. "Now I know. It was wrong of me to judge you so harshly. Sometimes, there really are good reasons for royalty to...disobey, to disagree. To leave."

"Oh, that!" Zeke crossed his arms, smiling. "Honestly, think nothing of it. I was far more insulted when you trash talked my swordsmanship."

Morag smiled at the memory. How, as a teenager, fed up with Zeke's antics, she had belittled and derided his fighting form. Not yet understanding that large, heavy weaponry, such as Zeke's massive greatsword, required a much different style of fighting than the nimble, quick blades she was training with. To this day, fighting with such large weapons still seemed strange to Morag – using the weight, the momentum of the heavy blade to conserve your own energy, almost like you were being dragged around the battlefield by the weapon itself. But she knew enough about it to know Zeke was very, very good. Perhaps the best there ever was. "Well, I was wrong about that, as well."

"Hah! Well. They don't call me Thunderbolt Zeke for nothing."

"Ugh. I can't believe that one actually caught on."

"Oh, like you don't have a dramatic nickname of your own, 'Flamebringer.'" Zeke chuckled, then turned to her, scratching his chin. "You know, Morag. I never really thought of my banishment as...abandoning my people, or anything. And I mean...the banishment had really just been the icing on the cake. I had already considered leaving before that."

"But why?" Morag eyed him curiously. "Is it just that you don't want to have the responsibility of royalty?"

"Not at all. I wanted nothing more than to help my people. But I saw that the only way to help them was to try to convince father to give up his foolish ways. Tantal suffers because of her isolation. But the dynasty has always preferred to stay hidden below the clouds while the world crumbles around them." Zeke shook his head sadly. "I...eventually I realized I was never going to get father to change his mind. I tried going around him, and...failed there too. There was nothing I could do to change Tantal. And even when I became King, the way things currently are...there would have still been nothing I could do. All I could have ever done in Tantal was watch my people suffer and eventually just get used to the idea. So...honestly, the banishment came at a convenient time. Gave me a good excuse to just go."

"But...how does being a mercenary help your people, in any way?"

Zeke shrugged. "Well...it doesn't, necessarily. Not directly. But before I was a mercenary, I came and lived with you, remember? Living in Mor Ardain...well, before it all went rotten, it gave me an idea of what other, more functional governments could look like. And traveling the world as a mercenary...I got to see how other places worked. Uraya has a weak monarchy, where the Queen honestly doesn't do all that much, and the people mostly take care of themselves. But it seems to work out for them pretty well. Indol has an absolute monarchy, but that seems to work good for them as long as they have someone competent like Amalthus on the throne." He gazed out wistfully across the clouds. "I do...plan on returning home, some day. And I hope all the things I've seen give me the knowledge to help make a change. My point is, you don't have to feel like you're abandoning Mor Ardain. Things are...bad there. As bad as I have ever seen. But there was nothing you could do to change it. Traveling the world...maybe one day you can return, with the things you've learned, and...help restore the Empire back to sanity."

Morag was quiet for a long moment. "That is...surprisingly mature of you, Zeke," she murmured. It was yet another surprise, for her. Zeke had actually managed to make her feel better. Although, even more than she wished that she could have helped her country, she wished she could have ensured her brother's safety. "It is hard to see how things could be made better, though."

"I wouldn't give up hope. Much more than Tantal, Mor Ardain is a place of change. Not always the best change, true. But change. It may seem bad, with Brionac leading a coup right now." Zeke shook his head, a look of disgust crossing his face. "But who knows. Five years from now, Brionac could have fallen from grace, and it might be much easier to hold them accountable for the crimes they've committed. That's Mor Ardain, for you. She never sits still."

Morag shook her head, thinking to herself. Five years. Five years of her brother sitting in that pit of snakes. Five years of Brionac conducting whatever insane wars it wanted. Five long years for them to cause whatever damage they could. Maybe things would have always been better if Mor Ardain had been more of an absolute monarchy, like Indol, rather than a republic with a monarch and a Senate. Still...it was a more hopeful way of looking at things than she had recently been. She gave a small smile. "Well. Thank you, Zeke. I suppose all I can do right now is look for the silver lining."

"That's the spirit. Didn't want to see you moping over here the whole trip. How about we grab some lunch?"

Morag sighed once more, stepping back from the railing. It was true that she hadn't had much of an appetite lately. She supposed if she was going to follow her brother's wishes, and help Rex find his way to Elysium, she ought to be responsible and keep up her strength.

As they walked to the dining room, passing by Pandy, Zeke playfully reached out and pinched her butt. His blade responded with a surprised 'Eep!', then grinned at him and poked him in his abs.

Morag watched this with some interest as they continued strolling on their way to the dining room. "You know, Zeke, I'm curious," she said. "Brighid tells me that you and Pandy, are, ah…." She made a complicated gesture with her hands.

"What…? What's that? What is that supposed to be?" Zeke smirked at her. "Is….is that how you think it works?"

"I know how it works," snapped Morag. "You know what I mean."

Zeke rolled his one good eye. "Honestly, Morag, you really are oblivious to this sort of thing. You had to have Brighid tell you? Isn't it obvious? Of course we are."

Morag absorbed this in silence. Blade-human romantic relationships were...looked down on in much of the world. In some parts of the world, they were so looked down on that it could get an angry mob calling for your head if they suspected something. Although it still seemed to happen often enough. Morag supposed that made sense. Blades and humans shared a close connection, so it was only natural that many people would feel tempted to become romantic with their blade, but at the same time it was likely to be looked down on, since blades and humans could not have children, and too much of it might cause a decline in birth rates, particularly among people who were predisposed to be drivers, who were always a valuable resource for any nation. And she knew for a fact that Tantal was one of the places it was looked down on in particular. Zeke had never told her the circumstances behind his banishment. She wonder if his philandering with Pandoria had anything to do with it.

**9.**

Malos stood in the imperial square of Auresco, royal capital of Torna, as all around him, the city burned. Pillars of flame erupted from the sloping, curved rooftops of the palace, the delicate red shingles bursting, exploding in the heat, sending showers of sparks cascading down into the sand gardens. Everything twisting, warped through a shimmering haze of oppressive heat.

He looked around himself. There was Lora, held in Jin's arms, Jin projecting an aura of cold to fight back the heat that would otherwise burn the humans in minutes, Haze, laying a healing hand on her forehead. Hugo, Aegaeon and Brighid, as well, all holding their blades, blood pouring down Hugo's young face from a gash in his forehead. And there, next to him, Addam and Minoth. All were staring defiantly upward. Malos followed their gaze.

At the top of one of Auresco's spires, already halfway consumed by roaring flame, shining like a radiant star, was Mythra. She smile beatifically down upon the burning city, upon the group gathered to oppose her in the imperial square. Her eyes were an awful, mad storm of defiance and joy.

"O, Torna," she cried, her voice booming out, loud and clear, carrying across the city. "You thought you could hide from your past. Hide from your sin. How, for centuries, you terrorized the world, holding it hostage under threat of annihilation from your Titan, which history and circumstance blessed you with. Oh, wicked Torna, only yielding in your brutality once you no longer needed it: Having claimed your perch at the top of the world, you deluded yourselves, claiming moral superiority by putting away your weapon. But what need does a murderer have for his blade anymore, when he's killed all who would defy him, and all that are left are those cowed into submission? You claim to be better than you once were, while all the world still lives under the veil of fear you cast upon it. But I do not fear you, Torna. I bring judgment to your wicked land. The world will be better without you." And she raised her sword of burning white flame to the sky, which tore itself open, beams of burning white light descending onto the city, tearing it apart.

Addam winced as the explosions rocked the square, struggling to stay on his feet. "How can you believe that?!" he shouted, once he had recovered. "We've been at peace for years – centuries! How can you think you're making the world better by killing all these innocent people?!"

Mythra looked down from the tower. "Innocence," she cried. "Peace. I can see the darkness that hides behind those words. Innocence of the comfortable, whose ancestors purchased their comfort with oceans of blood. Peace whose foundations are terror and submission. Where is the justice for the faceless, forgotten dead?" She placed a hand over her chest, smiling. "I can see the darkness that other humans see when they look at your nation. But unlike them, I have the power to burn that darkness away. The world can be made so beautiful without you in it."

"You're a lunatic," Jin cried out, dark circles beneath his eyes. "This world...it's not perfect. It needs change. But this is just slaughter."

"How do you suppose change happens?" Mythra's laugh was long, haunting. "If I asked the wicked, please stop, do you suppose they would listen? You must excise the poison at it source. Burn it all away." She peered down at them, smiling. "Ah. My wayward wolf of a brother. You should be here, by my side. Together, we could make this world so much better. It must be Father's will. Why else would he have sent us here?"

"He sent me here," Malos heard himself say, "To annihilate you, Mythra. I've never been more certain of anything. I'm going to grind you to dust and send you screaming into the Void."

Mythra's eyes widened, for once, with fear, her smile disappearing. "My poor, sweet brother," she said, her voice low, quieter than it had been. "You were not meant to understand this world. You were made to contemplate things beyond it. I cannot pretend to understand you. You should return to Elysium. Do what you were made for. Father could not have intended you for this."

Malos felt his face growing a wicked grin. "I don't need to understand this world completely, to rip you from it. Understanding can come later," he hissed, and black flame boiled around him, tearing forth, through the air, a long, jagged line, landing where Mythra was perched at the top of the tower. She only managed to dodge just in time, leaping down from the tower, to one of the lower palace garden roofs. Where the black flame touched, there was a small, tiny whine that grew in pitch for half a second, before reality imploded in on itself, flashing black and white, tearing half the tower into a singular point that then disappeared, with the awful shriek of cracking, warping, splintering wood. But...a small, black hole, like a tear in the substance of reality itself, lingered behind where the tower had been.

Mytha watched this, her joyous expression fading to one of concern. She glanced down at Addam. "I hope you know just what you've unleashed in your selfish quest to avoid judgment," she said, softly, her expression blank, unamused. "Of the Three, Logos was always the most alien to your kind. I love him, even now, but I know what he is. He will devour and disassemble to find his Holy, Blasphemous Truth." She tilted her head to the side, staring at Malos. "I don't think there's anything he'd leave untainted, if that was what it took."

"Silence, Pneuma, and stop with the theatrics," Malos drawled. He raised his blade, a whirling, black series of jagged black metal, rotating around a black, lightless core. "Face me. Face the Void. Face _my _judgment."

Mythra was silent for a moment, the only sound the crackling burning of the city around them. "Very well," she said, finally. "Meet me at the Titan's core. There we will determine Father's true will. And once I am done, I will set you gently back in your seat at Elysium. And I will return to purge this world of its wicked." And she raised her arms to the sky, growing brighter and brighter, until, with a crack like lightning, she was gone.

"Well, you heard her," Malos snarled to the group around him. "To the Titan's core. Let's finish this. I'm hungry to see her get what's coming to her."

Jin glanced at Addam, pausing for a moment. "Pneuma? Logos? The Three?" he asked, questioningly.

Malos waved his hand. "Irrelevancies. It would take too long to explain. I can tell you afterwards."

Jin was quiet for a moment. Then he gave a small smile, grasping Malos' hand. "Alright. Let's finish this, then." As he did, the world filled with smoke, fading, fading...

Malos opened his eyes, slowly, as the vision faded. He sat up in his bed, staring curiously at his hands.

He had never dreamed before. When he slept, he usually retreated into his mind, to the place where the Void lived within him, to contemplate its mysteries. But now, for some reason, his mind had chosen to replay these memories to him.

He looked out the window. Dawn had just begun to rise over the Cloud sea. Cold, orange, pink light stained the clouds a cacophony of color. It must still have been fairly early.

Malos swung his legs over the side of the bed, drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then interrogated his own mind. He was not human, he could see the...pieces, of what made his mind him. And he wanted to know what had just happened. With methodical, brutal efficiency, he tore through his own mind, disassembling, prodding, checking, growing increasingly annoyed when he could not find what had caused the vision. Finally, he opened his eyes with a growl. Whatever it was, it would take more time to find. Or perhaps he couldn't quite, yet. He was still partially damaged, and there were some parts of his mind that weren't quite...decipherable yet. Perhaps something had gone wrong in one of those sputtering, ruined portions of his mind. Couldn't hurt to double-check once he had fully repaired himself.

He got up, stretching, clenching his gauntleted fists. It was a very particular memory, to see at this point right now. Mythra's smiling, awful madness as she had rained fire down upon Auresco. He had to admit...Mythra as she was now, seemed so different as Mythra was then. She seemed...wounded. And not in the physical sense.

He opened the door to his room, stepping out onto the ship itself. All was quiet. It really was early. As he walked about the ship, he didn't meet another soul. Until he came to the prow of the ship.

There, leaning against one of the railings, looking out at the Cloud Sea, was Haze. Or...Fan la Norne, as she called herself now. Malos shook his head. Haze...she had been so...beautiful. In a way Malos himself barely understood, back during the Aegis war. She had been so bright, so full of life...even Malos had found himself charmed by her. What, exactly, had happened to her, to cause her to change her name?

He walked towards her, quiet as he could be. But not quiet enough, apparently. "Hello, Malos," Haze said, without turning around. Her voice...seemed almost sad, in a way. "You're up very early."

"Hello, Haze." Malos took up the spot next to her, crossing his arms as he stared out at the Cloud Sea.

"I'm Fan la Norne," she said, laughing. "You keep forgetting that."

"I'm….I'm sorry. But to me, you'll always be Haze."

"If you wish it. I don't mind."

There was silence between them for a moment, as both of them gazed out across the Cloud Sea. Malos looked down at her, out of the corner of his eye. She did look much the same as she had in her previous life. Still so much like Lora. Exactly the same, all except for her core crystal.

"I can tell you what I know, if you're curious," Haze said softly. Malos realized with a start that she had been looking at him, watching him look at her crystal. When Malos nodded briefly, she continued. "The Praetor found me on a battlefield. Well, not me, but my core crystal. My previous driver...had apparently been killed. Whatever had happened during the battle, apparently my crystal had been damaged."

Malos arched an eyebrow. "It's not so easy to damage a core crystal. Did he say what forces had been involved…?"

Haze shook her head. "He only said that whoever had done the killing, it had been a one-sided slaughter. I was among a group of refugees from the destruction of Torna, all killed by the time his forces had arrived. Whoever had killed them, not a single one of them had fallen in battle. He...recognized me, recognized my core crystal, took me from the field. Indol had some knowledge of core crystals – probably the most in the world – and Amalthus worked to save me. Unfortunately, the damage was...extensive, and he found it necessary to cut nearly half my crystal off to save the undamaged portion. Afterwards, he resonated with me. Most blades...they start off their life with no memory of their previous lives, but they have some idea of who they are. I...had none of that. I was lost, so...so afraid. Amalthus, he...he was so kind to me. He gave me a new name, stayed with me...until I had stabilized." A small smile played across Haze's face. "I knew then how lucky I was that Amalthus had found me. I can never repay him."

Malos was quiet for a long moment. "You really love him."

"Yes, I do," Haze said, closing her eyes. "I know he doesn't have the best reputation. For good reason. He was so angry at the Architect in his youth. And...he's not a fool. He knows Mythra's destruction was inspired by how he saw the world. The connection that a blade and a driver has."

"If...he sees the world in such an ugly way...how can you think so highly of him?"

"Because...it was Mythra's choice to react the way she did." Haze held a hand to her heart, her eyes still closed. "I can...see the darkness in Amalthus. Of course I can, he's my driver now, too. But it's there because...well...I won't tell you the Praetor's past. That is up to him. But yes, he has a darkness, a great grief within him. He sees the world through shadow. But that's...what makes him so beautiful. Because he has this great sadness, this aching hole within him, but...he still struggles to do the right thing. To use his great power, his great talent to help improve the world. It's….how I see it, as well." Haze opened her eyes, gazing wistfully across the Cloud Sea. "He's a great man. I just wish he wouldn't close off his heart so much. I cannot blame him. He's been so hurt in the past. But...that's what I mean. Mythra and Amalthus, they both see the world the same way. The same way I do, now. Mythra made the _choice _to end nations because of it."

Malos was quiet. He had only ever seen Amalthus from a distance. It was hard to know what to think of the man. Of all those who had known him closely, it seems no two had the same opinion of him. Minoth called him dangerous, clever, ambitious beyond all imagining. But he had also thought he would ultimately be helpful. And Haze, Haze seemed to adore the man. Malos wondered, what had Father thought of him? When Amalthus, beyond all that had seemed possible, had climbed the World Tree alone, taken the Aegis stones back to Alrest with him? Why had Father hidden from Amalthus? What was it that he had seen in the man?

"You know," Haze said, in response to Malos' silence, "I...I do remember some things. Sometimes."

Malos glanced down at her. "What do you mean?"

"From...my previous life. I know blades aren't supposed to be able to remember things from their previous drivers. But perhaps whatever it was that causes that loss of memory was damaged, and removed from me. I barely remember anything at all. Only flashes, brief flashes of memory. Faces. Fleeting feelings." She looked at him, a small, almost mischievous smile on her face. "I...have a couple of you. They came back to me after I had seen you."

"Oh? And what are they?"

"I can remember….seeing you for the first time. Thinking what a handsome man you were." Haze blushed, then laughed, unashamed. "Well, you are quite handsome. If a little too...mean-looking for my tastes."

"Oh, don't worry. I remember you having quite the crush on Aegaeon, anyway, not me."

Haze tilted her head to the side. "Aegaeon?"

"I...nevermind. What is your other memory of me?"

Haze's smile faded, and she looked again out at the Cloud Sea. "I remember you….ascending into the sky. In some great….artifice of darkness. I remember you...blotting out the sun with your might. The world….reality itself groaning beneath the strain of your power. I...remember...being so, so afraid of you."

Malos responded to this with silence. The two stood at the edge of the ship, staring out over the Cloud Sea for a long, long time.

"Look," Haze murmured quietly, pointing off to the horizon. "We're here."

There, in the distance, rising out of the Cloud Sea, as if it were part of the Sea itself, was a great, roiling wall of clouds, a mountain of them, and deep within them was the faint, blurry shadow of some great Titan. Around this great, wispy peak, various smaller Titans, tiny islands, orbited, slipping in and out of the clouds, in a chaotic, but almost cheerful dance.

Leftheria.

**Note: **

As always, thank you guys for the comments, and please comment if you can

This chapter is probably going to be a much slower one, at least until the end, where they visit Indol, so I'm planning on having a lot of social interactions in this chapter up until that point


	21. Chapter 21

**10.**

The party crowded around on the deck as they drew close to the spectacle of Leftheria, the towering peaks of clouds rising out of the sea, looming ever larger, taking up almost the entire horizon as they settled into port on one of Leftheria's more stable islands.

Nia shaded her eyes, peering off into the distance as the barge drew in. "I don't see your village," she said to Rex, who was beaming broadly, breathing in the air of home. "Where is it?"

"Oh, it's a few days hike off from here," Rex replied. He threw ropes overboard to the lackadaisical nopon workers staffing the dock, so they might tie the barge in as it docked.

"Days! Then why are we docking here?"

Rex pointed to the roiling peak of clouds off in the distance, numerous small island-titans floating lazily in and out of it. "Not many ships can navigate that. And besides, the islands moving around so much makes it difficult to build proper docking facilities. It's actually part of why Leftheria is so peaceful, it would be hell for any navy trying to make their way through that." Rex laughed. "The other reason is that there's not actually much here besides beaches."

Deftly, he vaulted himself off the side of the barge, landing nimbly on the docks. He put his hands on his hips, breathing in deeply as the rest of the party exited the barge in a more sane manner, off the exit ramp. "Ah, it feels good to be home!"

Nia shaded her eyes against the sun, squinting. "Cor, is it hot," she muttered. Mor Ardain had been hot as well, but it was a dry heat, tolerable within her jumpsuit. This was a much more tropical heat.

"Yep, sure is," said Rex, fumbling with his belt that held up his salvager equipment.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Nia asked, as Rex stepped out of his boots, her eyes widening as he lifted his shirt off above his head.

"Getting down to my swimsuit. Like you said, it's hot, right? You should take that jumpsuit off, too."

Malos stood beside Rex, scanning the horizon. "You know, that's not a bad idea," he mused. With a flash of black sparks, his armor disappeared, leaving him wearing nothing but a pair of black swim trunks, his purple core burning brightly in his chest.

Haze's eyes widened, and she glanced around. "Um...that was kind of hot. Right? It's not just me?"

"What the...take off my jumpsuit?" Nia's cheeks burned. "What are you, some kind of pervert?"

"I mean, why not? It's the beach." Rex shrugged. He raised an eyebrow at her. "You...you _do _wear something under there, right?"

"Of course I do!" Nia snapped. If she was being honest, she did wish she could take her jumpsuit off. But her damn core crystal, again…

"Oh, Nia," Brighid called, waving to her. "Why don't you come back to my cabin? I think I picked up something in Mor Ardain that would suit you."

Nia sighed, relieved, running after Brighid to her cabin.

"Tora hot as well!" the nopon cried, as Nia passed him. "Let...stupid overalls...ah, there we go!" Tora sighed as he removed his clothing, flapping his wings around him. "Is much better."

"Tora! Have some dignity!" Poppi cried, covering her eyes. "You are naked!"

"So what?" Tora said, tucking his clothes into his backpack. "Many nopon go naked all the time. You seen them before, Poppi. Not like humans where nudity is taboo."

"Poppi….suppose that true," the robot girl said begrudgingly, still averting her eyes from him. "It just….seem so _weird_ when masterpon does it."

"I don't know what you're all complaining about," Morag said, arching her eyebrows and crossing her arms as she watched them all undressing. "It seems a bit chilly to me, if anything. Just remember, we do still have a mission. It's not playtime at the – oh, for the love of the Titans."

Zeke and Pandoria rand down from the ship onto the docks, breathless. Zeke was dressed in a pair of green trunks and a tight, gray shirt, while Pandoria wore a frilly, cyan two-piece swimsuit with purple fringe, and carried a beach ball. "Right, so where do we lay down our towels?" he asked, eye gleaming.

Meanwhile, Nia followed Brighid into her cabin. Brighid began humming quietly, opening drawers, searching through them. "Now, I do think yellow suits you," she murmured, sorting through clothes. "How...hm. How do I put this...how modest would you like to be?"

"You don't have to do this, you know, Brighid," Nia said, lingering by the doorway.

"That would imply I don't enjoy it. Now, would you like something to cover up a bit more, or..."

"Well...I mean, I don't mind showing a bit of skin..."

"Hm. Well, if you _truly _don't care, I have this-" Brighid said, lifting a swimsuit out of a drawer.

Nia's eyes widened, her cheeks burning. "Brighid! That looks more like floss than a swimsuit. Are you insane?!"

Brighid smiled softly, putting the swimsuit back into the drawer. "Well, I don't like it personally, myself. But I understand it's the current rage among Ardainian nobility. Let's find you something more appropriate, then."

In the end, they settled on a peculiar yellow top – half swimsuit, half turtleneck, it extended up to Nia's neck to cover up her core crystal. The bottom was a pair of yellow swim shorts, with a sarong made of various layers of translucent yellow gauze. Nia spun around, examining herself in the mirror. "Yeah...yeah, I like it," she murmured to herself. After a thoughtful moment, she reached up and undid the ribbons from her hair. As long as they were going to Indol, she might as well change up her appearance as much as she could.

"I do have a similar one in black, as well. I'm not so sure that's your color, though." Brighid busied herself folding up the various possibilities that Nia had rejected.

"So..." Nia ran to the bed, where she had tossed her pack, and began rifling through it. "How much do I owe you for-"

"Nia, please. You don't owe me anything. Do you know how often people try to offload their latest fashion pieces on me? Everyone wants the Jewel of Mor Ardain and her friends to be wearing their latest." Brighid waved her hand idly. "At least it comes in some use, now. People are always _dying _that Lady Morag has no interest in fashion."

Nia looked down at the suit she was wearing, plucking idly at the sarong. "I….thank you," she whispered, looking away. It suddenly struck her how lucky she was. She hadn't had friends like this since...since she had lost her sister, really. Even in Torna, Pyra had always been kind to her, but this…

"Think nothing of it. It would have just been gathering dust otherwise." Brighid slid a drawer shut. "I think we've probably kept the others waiting long enough."

Nia followed Brighid down off the barge. Morag was tapping her foot, impatiently, while Tora and Poppi built a sand castle, and Zeke and Pandy were already swimming around in the Cloud Sea on the beach next to the docks. Malos, Haze and Rex were crouched down by a tidepool, Rex pointing excitedly to some of the wildlife trapped within, while Dromarch was busy hunting butterflies in some tall grass, further up the beach.

"You certainly took your time," Morag said, eyeing Brighid. "Should we get a move on?"

"Aw, do we really have to?" Zeke called, standing up in the Cloud Sea next to Pandy. "Can't we have a little relaxation on the beach?"

Morag sighed, looking around herself. She felt suddenly guilty. She had just dragged her friends through hell, back in Mor Ardain. Would it really be so bad if they took some time to relax? "I...suppose that's not such a bad idea."

Rex rose, dusting the sand from his suit. "Well, if we really wanna relax, we shouldn't hang out here by the docks, anyway. There's much nicer beaches, a bit of a walk from here." He glanced over at Nia. "Oh! Cool swimsuit."

"Oh. Um….thanks." Nia raised an eyebrow at Rex quizzically as he turned to wave Tora and Poppi over. She was a little confused. She would be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to Rex's reaction to seeing her in a swimsuit. After all, he had such a strong reaction to just seeing her back in her dress...but this showed more skin, and he hardly seemed to care. Maybe he was just playing it cool in front of the others?

Eventually everyone gathered together, as Rex waved them over, promising to lead them to even better beaches further up the coast. Malos glanced over at Haze, who was still dressed in her long, flowing robes. "You don't like the beach?"

"I don't really swim," Haze said, smiling.

Zeke crossed his arms. "Yeah, but you could always work on your tan."

"Well." Haze's face grew a bit mischievous. "When I do that, I usually like to go...all natural. If you know what I mean."

Rex's eyes widened, his jaw dropping as he heard this. "_I don't believe it."_

"Holy Architect, I totally called it," Nia said, doubling over in laughter. "Oh man."

**11.**

They set a lackadaisical, relaxed pace, Rex in the lead, strolling along the coasts, pointing out various landmarks to them as they made their way up Leftheria. The archipelago was surreal, in a way – never solid, never constant, composed of various small Titans constantly in movement. You had to learn the patterns of the movements, Rex told them, in order to properly navigate.

It was also beautiful, and idyllic. There was not much in the way of civilization, here. Every once in a while they'd run into small bands of people, walking along the beaches. Some of these looked clearly like they were vacationing and just enjoying the beach. Others were...more mysterious. Malos raised his eyebrows as two heavily-armed men passed them by, one Gormotti and the other Urayan, strapped down with swords and knives. Rex merely waved to them as they passed on by.

"Is that...normal?" Morag asked, glancing behind her as the men trailed off into the distance.

Rex shrugged. "It's normal enough. You get all types here, in Leftheria. Some people just trying to forget their troubles, or trying to get a fresh start. Some criminals, on the run. As long as they keep the peace here, Leftheria doesn't ask questions. All we ask is that if you're going to live here, you be good."

"But how do you enforce that?" It was Zeke who spoke this time, glancing at Rex curiously. "Wouldn't that just attract a bunch of criminals here?"

"Well. It's not exactly easy to get here. But you'd be surprised how many people take the opportunity for a fresh start seriously. A lot of times we don't have to enforce it." Rex grinned. "And if someone does cause trouble, well. It helps to have Gramps around. A flying, fire-breathing Titan does a lot to keep people in line."

After crossing a small land bridge between two island-Titans that spun in slow orbit around each other, they came to a particularly beautiful island. The center of it was dominated by a crystal-clear pool, fed by a small waterfall pouring from a large rocky outcropping. Large, exotic shrubs and flowers well over three feet in diameter sprouted around the pool – Morag recognized some of them as Urayan species. And the Titan was ringed by smooth, fine, pure white sand, the sort that felt comfortable to step on, like a thick, warm carpet that you sank into.

They set up on the beach, Zeke and Pandy laying out their towels. Morag gathered some driftwood to make a small fire, which Brighid lit with a blast of blue flame.

Malos had drifted off to examine the flowers growing in the center of the island while the others settled in to relax. He crouched down, looking closely at one of the large, red blossoms. Small, blue beetles darted in and out of its petals. An interesting little species. It was almost as if they were behaving socially.

"Malos."

Malos glanced behind him. It was Brighid, staring at him with her arms crossed, wind blowing her long, blue hair behind her. Malos rose to his feet, stretching himself out. "Yeah? What is it?"

Brighid was quiet for a moment, as if trying to think of how to put what she wanted to say into words. "Why...why are you so...distant, with Rex?"

Malos narrowed his eyes, arching an eyebrow quizzically. "Distant? I meditate with him, train with him. I don't think we're very distant."

Brighid was quiet, yet again, tapping her foot. "I...read my journal," she continued, after a while. "I have...notes about you. How you seemed cold, uninterested at first. But then you...actually opened up. Became friendly. With Jin, in particular. But with Rex...you seem to keep him at a certain amount of...formality."

"It's a partnership," Malos replied, shrugging. "Doesn't need to be more than that."

"I don't think Rex thinks of it that way," Brighid said quietly. "I think...he really looks up to you. I think he's a bit hurt that you hold him at arm's length." She shook her head, sadly. "Rex is...he doesn't let things show. Always keeps a cheerful smile on. But I can see it, sometimes."

"Well, well, look at you, aren't you observant?" Malos chuckled. "Since when have you started paying so much attention to Rex?"

"Since...I wanted to...make sure what kind of boy he was," Brighid murmured, glancing back at the beach. Nia and Rex were standing next to each other, engaged in conversation with Poppi and Tora. "Make sure….that he's the good, honest sort. For Nia."

"Oh, that so? I don't ever remember you being so matronly before." Malos' mocking grin grew wider. "What's wrong? Do you think Rex is learning uncouth and unchivalrous behavior from me? Afraid he won't treat her in a manner befitting a lady?"

"No. I think Rex is a very kind-hearted young man and he would never intentionally hurt her. I think Nia has exceptionally good taste." Brighid's voice was cold steel. "I am much more concerned about the way _you _treat _him_." Brighid drew in a breath, calming herself. She remembered Morag's words to her. Malos was a soldier. If Lady Morag saw some good in him, it was probably there. Somewhere. "I think you're trying to get a rise out of me to avoid the subject."

Shadows flitted across Malos' face, his grin turning considerably more unpleasant. He took a step toward her, and Brighid suddenly became intensely aware of how intimidating the Dark Aegis was. The unnatural strength that lay behind those muscles. His eyes dark pits, boring into her. "You think so," he said, his voice flat, dangerous. "You think you're clever? Think you're...in my head, little blade? Got me figured out?" Between them, his shadow seemed to grow darker, pitch black, a stain on the ground, growing larger, larger, like a spreading puddle of ink, reaching out towards her with tendrils snaking through the grass.

Brighid swallowed her fear and stood her ground. "Well. Yes. A little bit, at least."

And suddenly Malos gave a wry laugh, and his shadow was normal once more, his eyes no longer black, swirling voids of malevolence. "Well. You got me there." He shot her a grin that was no longer so cruel or dangerous, but rather a bit cheeky. "Good old Brighid. You were hard to mess with back then, too."

Brighid breathed a sigh of relief. "So….why is it that you keep Rex….closed off?"

Malos was quiet for a moment, looking out towards the beach. Brighid followed his gaze. He was looking at Fan la Norne, who was bouncing a beach ball back and forth with Zeke, Pandoria, and even Lady Morag seemed to be getting into the fun as well. "It's...been so long," he began, quietly, and to Brighid's shock, he seemed utterly earnest. There was not a trace of sarcasm or mockery in his voice. He almost seemed…vulnerable. "All the people I used to know...you, Aegaeon, Haze...I expected them not to remember me. But...the humans. Hugo. I gather that Addam didn't live long after the final fight, either. And I don't know what happened with Lora, but I assume...Jin probably has a good reason for wanting to kill me." He shook his head, looking away from Brighid, but not before she caught what looked like an expression of genuine pain on his face. "Maybe Mythra is right, in a way. I'm...not really meant for this world. Maybe it's best if I don't try to get close to anyone."

"Is that it?" Brighid replied, quietly. "You're afraid that if you get close to people, you're going to hurt them?" She shook her head. "Look Malos, I don't know what you were like back then. But you...don't seem so bad this time around." She took a step forward, giving a small smile. "Why not just...try being a bit kinder to Rex? Getting closer to him, like a proper blade should?"

Malos turned around, an odd expression on his face. "You really don't know me," he said softly. "But who knows. Maybe you're right." All trace of expression dropped from his face, and emotionless, neutral, he waved a hand, and turned around to examine the beetles on the flower again. "Enough talking."

Brighid blinked, then sighed in exasperation, throwing up her hands as she went back to join the others on the beach. Malos glanced over his shoulder to watch her go.

Brighid really didn't understand. It wasn't hurting others that Malos was afraid of. It was the risk that getting too close to them would make him pause. Would make him hesitate when it came time to do what needed to be done.

**12.**

Tora had settled in on the beach rather quickly. Poppi watched as her masterpon, with deft, skilled hands, quickly shaped wet sand into intricate and elaborate spires and architecture, building an impressive sand castle. She knelt down next to him with an armful of sea shells, decorating the roof of the castle.

"Poppi, must be careful with placement of sea shells. Aesthetics have negative impact on structural stability," Tora muttered to himself, intently focused on now building a small stable in the shadow of the castle.

Rex strolled by, with Nia at his side. Poppi watched them, curiously. "Come on, Rex, I want you to bring me to those nude beaches you told me about," Nia was saying to him, a wicked gleam in her eye. "I wanna see if you're actually brave enough to get down to nothing."

Poppi snorted, and couldn't stop herself from saying, "Yeah, Poppi bets you do."

Nia and Rex glanced towards her, both of them blushing. Rex rubbed the back of his head, then crossed his arms and squinted at her. "You know, Poppi, ever since you've changed, you've seemed a lot sassier."

"Yeah," Nia snapped, clearly irritated. "Are you sure you kept her with the same personality, Tora?"

"Eh? Yes yes. Upgrade process involves no change to neural matrix." Tora wiped sweat from his brow, then glanced up at them. "Have further upgrades planned, as well. But never any change to neural matrix needed."

"Poppi is the same as she has always been. Maybe you are just taking Poppi more seriously now because she has these," Poppi said, poking at her breasts.

Rex looked away, holding out a hand defensively, while Nia's eyes widened. "Don't...don't just POKE them like that!" the Gormotti girl cried.

"What, why?" Poppi reached up and squished them together as Nia sputtered and Rex turned around entirely, shaking his head. "These are signifier of human sexual maturity, but they mean nothing to Poppi. Just jet fuel storage. But Poppi understand appearance very important to humans, so maybe easier for Poppi to be taken seriously if she has them. Maybe they should be bigger, then more people take her seriously. What Tora think?"

"Always good to have more jet fuel storage!" Tora replied cheerfully.

"Has she stopped playing with them yet," Rex muttered, still facing away from Poppi.

"Oh you'd love that, wouldn't you, you little pervert," Nia snapped at Tora, crossing her arms, glaring at him.

Tora scratched the top of his head with a wing, puzzled. "Tora not understand. How he a pervert?"

"Seriously, can I turn around yet?" Rex asked.

Nia gestured towards Poppi. "You know, you gave her that...nice bod, and all, and that short little skirt to go along with it...and you dressed Brighid up in a maid outfit too, that one time...look, not that there's anything wrong with a little skin, it's just..."

Tora crossed his arms, looking increasingly annoyed. "And how that make Tora a pervert?"

"You know!" Nia snapped in frustration. "Because you like sexy girls in sexy outfits!"

"Thank you," Poppi said, beaming.

"Nia," Tora replied, as if he was talking to a simpleton, "That make no sense." He gestured down at himself. "What you see here?"

"A naked nopon."

"Exactly, a nopon! Why I care about what human find sexually attractive? I just think is cute!"

"I-" Suddenly, Nia stepped back, blinking. "Wait. That's a good point."

Rex finally glanced around over his shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief to see Poppi was no longer poking at her chest. "You know...Bana liked to have a bunch of sexy girls around, too," he said as he turned around. "I thought he had a thing for human girls..."

"Nopon just think they cute!" Tora snapped irritably. "Not like humans not do it to nopon, too! Here..." he cast about, then plucked up a pair of sticks, handing them to Nia and Rex. "Draw in sand. Draw nopon."

Nia and Rex glanced at each other, shrugging, then used the sticks to scratch out a crude doodle in the sand. Nia spent considerably longer on hers, sticking her tongue out and squinting as she tried to add more and more detail in. Tora watched them with his arms crossed, a frown on his face. "There, look," he said, once they had finished. "Rex-Rex, why you give your nopon such big wings?"

"I...I dunno, that's just how I think of them..."

"Wings is nopon secondary sexual characteristic! You make them so big, is like giving human girl gigantic boobs. You have a thing for nopon women, Rex-Rex?"

"What!" Rex cried, stumbling back. "What, no, of course not-"

"And you!" Tora said, turning on Nia, who was busy stifling a snicker. "Nia's is even worse! That perfect egg shape. Those stripes. This is practically pornography! Is lewd, lewd!"

"What?!" Nia gasped, as Rex began to laugh at her. "I...I just tried to make it cute!"

"Is Tora's point," Tora explained slowly, deliberately. "You call me pervert because I make Poppi curvy or dress her up, but is just what nopon think is cute."

"Alright, fine," Nia said placing her hands on her hips. "But that still doesn't explain why you guys only seem to like human women."

Tora shrugged. "Actually, is something nopon think is very cute about human males, but tends to get a much worse reaction than just dressing up girls cute."

Nia and Rex glanced at each other once more. "I'm afraid to ask," Rex replied, slowly. "But what is it?"

"Human male genitals."

"WHAT," Nia shouted, as Rex covered his face and said "Oh Architect, why did I ask."

"Well sure. They very funny. External, and always dangling and flopping around. Very funny. Is cute." Tora laughed. "But humans always get so angry when we keep naked boys around for some reason. Tora not get it, really. Just nudity. Who care?"

"Human male genitals _really _like that?" Poppi asked curiously. She turned to Rex. "Poppi wants to see."

"That's it, I'm done!" Rex cried, blushing a deep crimson. He walked off, throwing his hands up in the air. "Done! Done done!" Nia watched him go, her hands covering her mouth, blushing deeply herself, her eyes wide in shock.

Poppi tilted her head to the side. "Hmm. Maybe Poppi can get Malos or Zeke to-"

"NO you don't," Nia shouted, aghast.

"Forget it, Poppi," Tora said, waving his wings idly, turning back to his sand castle. "Humans very strange about this subject. Only like to see genitalia in certain magazines. Tora can probably get you some if you truly curious-"

"No, don't do that either!" Nia cried, then threw her hands up in the air as well. "I can't. I can't take this anymore. Rex, hold up!"

Poppi and Tora watched as Nia stomped off, racing after Rex.

"So," Poppi said, breaking the silence, poking at her breasts. "Tora really can make these bigger?"

"Will incorporate it into next design iteration."

**13.**

It had been a few hours that they had been relaxing on the beach. The sun had begun hanging low in the sky, though the temperature still remained balmy and comfortable, when they began feeling the first pangs of hunger. They had restocked on rations in Mor Ardain, but Rex told them that there was no need to eat the sad, wrapped, stale sandwiches in their backpacks. "There's always of plenty of fish in the islands around here," he said, pointing off to the Cloud Sea. "We can catch something, I'm sure of it."

"Oh, cooked fish?" Fan la Norne perked up in interest. "I've seen some plants on this island that would make wonderful seasoning for that. I can go gather some."

"Yeah, that's the spirit," Rex said. "Just keep our little campfire going. What do you say, Malos? Wanna come catch something? Bet I can get a bigger one than you."

Malos looked down at Rex, quiet for a moment. "Sure, why not," he said, finally.

"Hey! I can help too," Pandy cried, jumping up. "I'm an expert fisherman! Zeke, let's show them our technique."

Zeke looked uncharacteristically pensive. "Pandy, your technique is...a bit risky."

"Oh, come on, big guy. I can't do it without you."

Zeke crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "I am _pretty sure_ you can."

Pandy wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing herself up against him. "Okay, I don't _want _ to do it without you, I mean," she said, her tail smacking his butt. "Come on."

"Fine, fine, let's go..."

Haze went off to gather herbs, while Rex led Malos, Zeke, and Pandy to a small overhang by the edge of the island, a place where the shore jutted out a few feet above the gentle lapping motion of the Cloud Sea. "You can't see it from here, but right underneath us is a small cave, beneath the clouds. Fish love to hang out there. Makes this a great fishing spot," Rex said.

"Right. So what do we fish with?" Malos said, crossing his arms, peering down into the clouds.

"Oh hey, I just said I could catch a bigger fish than you, I never said anything about how you do it," Rex said slyly, as he unwound some cable from the anchor shot on his wrist, hooking a fat caterpillar to the end of it. "You have to figure out your own way to catch them."

Rex tossed his line over the side of the ledge, peering down into the depths. It wasn't long before he had a bite, and with a bit of struggle, he hauled up an impressive fish, a large green bass with a pale white belly, well over three feet long. He struggled, dragging it up onto land, as it flopped about frantically. "Not bad!" he said, wiping the sweat off his brow. "We're gonna need more than that to feed everyone, though. Think you guys can do better?"

Malos rolled his eyes, stepping over to the edge to look down at the cloud sea. "How am I gonna do this..." he muttered. He closed his eyes, and stretched out his hand, concentrating. And suddenly the clouds parted with a roar as an explosion shook somewhere deep beneath the surface, black flames roaring upwards from the depths. Fish rained down around them, flopping and gasping on the ground. Malos opened his eyes, grinning at Rex. "How about that? Not bad. Nice and efficient."

Rex looked around at all the fish flopping around him. "Oh, yeah, yeah, sure. But none of these are bigger than the one I caught."

"What! I caught way more. And look at that-" Malos pointed to a quivering hunk of meat. "Pretty sure that's a _piece_ of a fish bigger than the one you caught, that should count-"

"Oh no no, I said I could catch a bigger fish!"

Pandy cleared her throat loudly, looking at the both of them smugly. "You are like little babies," she smirked. "Watch this."

She lifted her tail, and the lightbulb at the end of it began to flicker and pulse in a hypnotic pattern. She dipped herself into the ocean, holding onto the ledge, her tail flicking back and forth, its light dimly visible beneath the clouds. Zeke stood on the edge of the overhang, holding his sword, staring intently at the light beneath the clouds.

Suddenly, it disappeared, and Pandy let out an excited shriek, hanging onto the shore. "We got a bite, Zeke!"

Zeke dove into the Cloud Sea with a dramatic yell, his sword held high above his head, disappearing beneath the clouds as Pandy crackled with electricity. Malos and Rex glanced at each other uncertainly as Zeke did not surface for a few moments.

Suddenly, with a roar, Zeke surfaced above the clouds, his arms wrapped solidly around a massive fish. Malos and Rex boggled as, with Pandy's help, he dragged it onto the shore. It was humongous, a long, snake-like fish with a mouth full of vicious, hooked fangs, a few feet longer than even Zeke was.

"I told you..." Zeke panted, as he finally dropped the fish, onto the ground, where it lay twitching, "Your method...is dangerous, Pandy! Look at that thing. What if it had taken a chomp out of your rear?"

"That's why I wanted my Prince nearby to protect me," Pandy cooed, beaming up at him.

Zeke rolled his eye at her. "Don't think I can't tell what you're doing, you little charmer."

"That's a sea-dragon," Rex said wonderingly. "You barely ever see those. When we go salvaging, if we see one we just surface immediately, they're so aggressive. You managed to kill one of those things?"

Slowly, they managed to drag their haul back to the campfire, dragging the massive sea-dragon through the sand. "Hey, Morag," Zeke called, as he strained to drag the massive fish, "You mind giving us a hand gutting this-"

Morag, who was standing by the fire talking to Brighid, took one glance at the fish Zeke was dragging along, its humongous, unblinking eyes, and her eyes widened.

**14.**

While Zeke, Rex, Malos and Pandy went off to catch fish, Fan la Norne strolled off to the middle of the island, humming to herself peacefully, as she knelt down among the thick flowers and vegetation to begin gathering a variety of the wild vegetables and herbs that she had spotted earlier to cook along with the fish.

Nia quietly watched her from a distance, Dromarch at her side, ducking behind trees and rocks whenever Fan turned around to avoid being spotted. She fidgeted to herself, unsure of what to do. There was something that she very much wanted to ask Fan. But...as kind and sweet as Fan seemed, she _was _an envoy of Indol. Well, so were Zeke and Pandy, and they seemed alright, but…

"Is there a reason why you're watching me, Nia?" Fan called out suddenly, her voice calm and light. Nia felt her heart drop to her stomach. How long had Fan known that she was there?

She stepped out from behind the rock she had been hiding behind, her ears flat against her head, looking away in embarrassment. "Heh, sorry," she said, somewhat abashedly. "I...er, there was something I wanted to ask you, but I wasn't sure how..."

"If there's anything you want to ask, you can go ahead," Fan replied. She hadn't looked at Nia, or looked up from where she was crouched on the ground, gathering vegetables. Nia still had a vague sense of unease.

She looked down at Dromarch, who looked up at her with large, unblinking eyes. "I hear….you're a healer," she began, softly, stepping closer to Fan, who still didn't look up. "I...you don't know this, but when Rex uses Malos' power...it hurts him. I always heal him..but I'm worried that it's leaving a deeper wound that I can't heal. Dromarch, ah, Dromarch says he can sense it." Nia glanced down at her blade. Dromarch had, in fact, told her he couldn't sense anything like that. But Nia didn't want to suggest that she might have healing powers of her own. "I wanted to get a second opinion, from another healer..."

Fan didn't answer for a moment, and didn't look up, just continuing to pluck out vegetables from the ground, piling them in a small basket next to her. "I've heard much about the power of the Dark Aegis, through historical records," she murmured quietly. "And I have...some very fractured memories of what it did to Addam. Just flashes. Screams. I'm aware of what it does to people." Finally, she turned around to face Nia, a sad smile on her face. "You really care for Rex, don't you?"

"I suppose it's getting more and more obvious, isn't it," Nia muttered to herself. "Well. I won't deny it. I do. He's….he's very special to me."

Fan's smile grew sadder, and sorrow swam into her eyes. "Perhaps...you should ask yourself whether that's the wisest decision."

Nia was silent. The only sound was the low, gentle roar of the ocean, the distant cries of seagulls.

Fan turned away, turning back to the vegetables before her, slowly gathering them once more. "I can feel it," she said quietly. "Very faintly, yes. Something within Rex that isn't...quite right. It's hard to describe. And, as far as I can tell, impossible to heal." She sighed, finally standing on her feet, not turning around, looking off into the distance. "It is much the same as what I heard of Addam. He survived the final battle with Mythra, you know. But wasted away not much longer after that. I can't pretend to understand the Architect's plan. But perhaps it is just the way things are. Perhaps those who use the Dark Aegis are simply doomed to die from it."

And now she turned around, the gentle smile on her face for some reason striking fear into Nia's heart. She took a step towards Nia, and Nia found herself almost stumbling backwards, clutching closer to Dromarch. "I know that it might seem beautiful to you," Fan said, her voice almost a whisper. "But getting close to someone like that…? It's only asking for pain. Perhaps...before your heart carries you away entirely...think with your head, not your heart. Is it really worth the pain you'll experience, loving someone as doomed as him?"

Nia looked at Fan with wide, panicked eyes. "You….you sound just like her," she whispered.

Fan paused in her advance, her face still frozen in that same awful expression of joy and despair. "Like who?"

Nia's hands burrowed into Dromarch's fur. "Like...like Pyra. Mythra."

Fan was silent for a long moment, her hair whipping around her in the breeze, her expression neutral, the dying light framing her in a halo of pink light.

"I..so what do you want me to do," Nia said, her voice growing louder, as the anger began building in her. "Just...stop caring about him, because it might hurt me…? Even if...even if he was...doomed...that's not fair to him either, is it? How awful that is to him...for people to just stop caring about him just because of the sacrifices he thinks he needs to make. And even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I couldn't, damn it!" She stomped her foot, glaring up at the goddess of Indol. "When you care about someone, you can't just...switch it off! I don't know about you, but...I can't."

Fan shook her head, closing her eyes, suddenly looking uncertain of herself. "You have to watch out for yourself...he may be doomed..."

"And that's another thing," Nia continued, her voice raising almost to a shout. "I..." she closed her eyes, as visions of her sister's cruel smile from her nightmare danced in her head. "I...even if he is doomed...I won't give up on at least trying. The least I could do is _try…"_

Nia felt defiant in the moment, but internally, she was full of doubt. It was starting to feel like the world was trying to send her a message. Pyra, Vandham's wife, and now Fan...what if it was all true? What if she was being a fool? She had lost her sister, her father, and it had hurt her more than she had ever imagined possible. Wasn't it...stupid to care about someone again? Particularly if that person was...so likely to…

But it was true. She couldn't help it. She couldn't possibly help it. Not just Rex, either. She wanted to love, to have friends, she didn't want to go through life alone, so utterly alone.

She glanced up as Fan began speaking once more, her face still graced with a small, sad smile. "That's very noble of you, Nia. To keep reaching for beauty, against the inevitable darkness. It's what makes people so wonderful. To see that darkness, that tragedy, and still persevere."

Nia was quiet, for a moment, glaring defiantly up at Fan. So many said that. That tragedy was inherent, that it was a guarantee. And at one point she might have taken that for granted. But she had spent so long stumbling around in darkness...to finally find real friends. People who truly cared about her. Maybe she didn't deserve it, but she had found them nonetheless. "What if...it's not so inevitable?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if...it actually isn't as bad as all that? What if...we can fight and make it better?"

Fan paused for a moment, holding a hand to her chest, her eyes closed, looking down towards the ground. It looked almost as if there was an enormous weight pressing down on her. "Sometimes...I still feel like you do," she murmured. "But long history has taught me...it ends. It all ends. Our beauty is in the struggle against tragedy. Against our fallen nature. Against this world. And more often than not...we lose."

"I don't...believe that." Nia blinked at herself, almost in surprise, then slowly growing more and more certain. "I don't believe that!"

Fan sank to her knees, and for a moment, Nia was shocked, thinking she had collapsed. But she had merely gone back to collecting vegetables and herbs. "Do you really not believe it," Fan murmured, not looking at her, "Or do you simply not _want _ to believe it?"

Nia shook her head, stepping back from Fan, nearly stumbling. She turned, walking away, back towards the campfire, her head spinning. Fan had seemed so kind, so sweet and caring. Why did she have to have this despair in her as well? Was it just part of what living in this world did to people? Would the world grind her down like that, as well?

As she approached the campfire, she noticed a small batch of freshly-caught fish sitting on a nearby rock. Morag was there, holding one of the fish, and a sharp gutting knife, looking at the fish with wide, unsteady eyes. A few dozen feet away, Zeke, Malos, Rex, Pandy and Brighid were standing over...what looked to be a colossal, snakelike fish, apparently arguing over the best way to butcher it.

Dromarch left her side, padding over to the batch of fish to sniff at them tentatively, before taking one in his mouth and dragging it over to the grass to gnaw on it. Dromarch always did prefer his meat raw.

Morag looked at this, her knife still poised uncertainly over the fish she was meant to be butchering. "Oh, hello, Nia," she said, quietly, as the Gormotti girl sat down next to her.

Nia's head was still swimming from what Fan had told her. "This fish...this for dinner?" she asked quietly.

"Ah, yes."

Nia watched, wrapped up in her own thoughts for a moment, as Morag tentatively poked and prodded at the fish with the curved gutting knife. But finally, she looked up, raising a curious eyebrow at the Ardainian. "Come on, Morag. You know how to gut that thing or not?"

"I know how," Morag said irritably.

"Really?"

"...No."

Nia sighed, grabbing a fish, and plucking the knife from Morag's hands. She wasn't a particularly good cook, but living in the wild had taught her a few survival skills. "Here, you do it like this, see-"

Morag's eyes widened further still as Nia unflinchingly plunged the knife into the fish, quickly slicing a seam up the middle, yanking out the entrails with one quick flick of her wrist. She tried not to look at the fish's eyes as Nia quickly sliced up its sides, carving filets out of its flesh, plucking out stray bones and flicking them away into the sand. "You're, ah, quite adept at that."

"Hmm," Nia answered, tossing away the fish head to a pair of nearby curious seagulls, and picking up another fish to begin working on that one. "Hey….Morag. This...ah...this is gonna sound dumb. But...can I ask you something...woman to woman, like?"

Morag arched an eyebrow. "Of...course. Certainly."

Nia distracted herself sawing away at the fish in front of her, not looking at Morag. "I...suppose it's becoming pretty obvious," she said quietly. "But...I...really, really care for Rex."

"Oh! Well." Morag glanced over to where Rex stood, still jabbering with Malos and Zeke. Each of them held one of their blades, while Brighid tentatively pointed out parts of the sea-dragon that she wanted them to cut. Brighid was, of course, entirely guessing on how to butcher the thing. She had no more idea about it than Morag had. "It...is a little obvious, yes. But I think it's also fairly obvious he….cares about you, in particular, as well."

Nia smiled to herself, a little bit, a sad, crooked smile. She stopped in her filleting of the fish, putting the knife down at her side. "Am...Am I a fool for that?" she asked.

"Why would that make you a fool…?"

"People keep telling me...Rex...you've seen it, using Malos the way he does, it hurts him. And I've...lost people in the past, and...am I a fool for...caring so much about someone who...might…"

"Who would tell you..." Morag glanced over in the direction Nia had walked from, at the figure of Fan calmly gathering herbs and vegetables at the center of the island. "I...well. We are _all _risking our lives here, Nia. I won't lie and tell you that it's...not an extra burden to care for someone who does that. But it would be a bitter world indeed if no one cared for those who risked their lives. The soldiers, the heroes of the world, they need people who love them, too. In the end, it's up to you. Is that something you're willing to accept?"

Nia was quiet, not looking up. But her smile became less crooked, and a faint blush played across her cheeks. "It...it is."

"Of course, that doesn't mean you need to accept every foolish risk Rex might toss himself at. I've...held command over my share of men. Young men, in particular...it's as if the Architect designed them to take bull-headed risks." Morag sighed, crossing her arms, thinking back to all the soldiers she had known. "Men can be strange creatures."

Nia laughed, finally looking up at Morag. "I know that. I never thought you would be the sort to notice that kind of thing."

"Like I've said, I've held command over my share of young men. It's hard not to notice." Morag waved her hand idly. "My point is, if you care for him...you're within your rights to tell him when he's being a fool. Although that's never really been a problem for you, has it?"

"No, definitely not." Nia crossed her arms. "I do wonder if I'm too harsh, sometimes."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that. Rex seems like the sort to take it all in stride. And you know, you aren't….powerless, in all this. You're the finest healer I've ever known. And an experienced driver. Even if Rex is risking his life...you have the luxury that many who care for those who put themselves in danger do not. You can stand by his side, and help keep him safe."

Nia sighed. She seemed much more...at ease, Morag noticed, than she had when she had first approached. Morag was glad her advice had at least been able to comfort the girl. "I...thanks, Morag. I was...beginning to wonder whether everyone thought I was a fool."

"Was it something Fan had said to you?" Morag asked quietly. When Nia didn't respond, Morag continued. "She is a blade of the Praetor...and she would have some of him reflected within herself. I know little of Amalthus, myself. My brother has met him more often. He has a reputation, a well-deserved one, as a legend. The wisest monarch ever to rule. Benevolent, as well, always bestowing charity upon refugees from war." Morag leaned back, crossing her arms, looking up into the sky. "But I will always remember what my father told me about him."

"What was that…?"

"It was...after a diplomatic mission to the Praetorium. He said the Praetor held the Alrest in the palm of his hand. Amalthus has a way of...getting what he wants, in diplomatic talks." Morag closed her eyes. "I...at the time I thought it meant that he was clever. A good ruler. He had risen so high on strength of his virtue. But I suppose I've been wondering lately if anyone ever gains that much power without some wickedness in their hearts."

**15.**

The party sat around the fire, digging into their meal heartily. The sun had begun to set, dusk creeping up around them, the shadows lengthening outside of the flickering orange light of the campfire.

They had more than enough fish for all of them, and the herbs and vegetables Fan had gathered cooked well. Delicious, flaky filets, from the fish Rex and Malos had caught, and large, tough, but still tasty steaks from the sea-dragon Zeke and Pandy had pulled up. The seasoning on them was subtle, but added well to the flavor, and Fan had gathered some wild tubers and roots that cooked until soft by the fire.

"I suppose we'll be camping here for the night," Morag said thoughtfully, between bites of fish.

"Poppi looking forward to some peace and quiet," Poppi said, stretching. She narrowed her eyes at Zeke and Pandy. "Poppi have room next to Zeke and Pandy on the boat."

"Yeah, so?" Pandy asked, her mouth half full.

"Poppi have _very good hearing._"

Pandy slowed her chewing, glancing around nervously.

"Why Pandy always saying for Zeke to 'give it to her'? What he giving her-"

Pandy choked, and Zeke spit out his drink. The entire party sputtered, in fact, choking on their food. Only Fan seemed relatively unperturbed, simply laughing.

They lounged around the fire after finishing their meal, idly tossing the fish bones into the crackling flames. "I suppose that it's safe enough to stay outside for the night," Morag asked Rex.

Rex stretched out, shaking a bit, leaning back against a piece of driftwood. "Ah yeah, it's safe enough. There are some Tirkin tribes around here that can get a bit unfriendly, but they never really hurt anyone, mostly just try to steal. And they're pretty fat and lazy, you can chase them off easy enough." Suddenly he gave a mischievous smile. "That is...unless you consider the ghosts."

Nia, who was sitting next to him, gave him a shove, her eyes wide. "Oh, shut up. There's no such thing as ghosts!"

"Oh, you think so?" Rex grinned at her. "What's wrong, Nia, a bit spooked?"

Nia snorted, crossing her arms. "Oh please. I'm not a child. I don't believe in any of your ghost stories."

Rex shrugged. "Well...I can't say I've ever seen any of them myself. But it is true, there's a lot of legends about ghosts haunting the islands. Lots of stories about old criminals coming here to die, their spirits wandering the islands for all eternity…."

"Your spirit is gonna be joining them if you don't hush up," Nia snapped.

Rex laughed. "Man, Nia, I never knew ghosts would scare you this much. This is kinda cute."

"I told you I'm not scared!"

They sat around the fire, talking, gossiping, trailing off from the campfire one by one to go find a comfortable place in the sand to nap, no blankets or cover necessary in the idyllic, cool night air.

Malos was the last to remain by the fire. He watched as Zeke and Pandy, the other two that had stayed up the latest, finally left the circle of orange light, trailing off into the night. He remained at the blaze for another hour or two, watching the crackling flame die down into nothing but smoldering embers, until it barely lit his face in the darkness.

He got up, moving through shadow, looking around. It was a clear night, the full moon illuminating the sleeping figures on the beach.

He moved with utter silence, like a shadow drifting over the ground, moving to Rex's pack. He reached in, pulling out one of the core crystals Rex had stored in there, the one Vandham had given to him when they had fought the monstrous spider.

With a flash of silent black flame, Malos was clad in his black armor once more. He left the group on the beach, walking silently to the center of the island. He stood by the shore of the large pool in the center of the island, fed by the small, gentle waterfall, the water of the lake reflecting the thousands of stars lighting up the night sky.

He held the core crystal out in front of him, closing his eyes. Black flame flowed from the core crystal, siphoning off from it, into the cross-shaped Aegis core on his chest. As he did so, the core crystal grew duller, more gray.

Draining from Mythra, when he could get a hold of her, was the best way for Malos to make repairs to the damage that had been done to him back during the Aegis War. But small, gradual repairs could be made from siphoning from the core crystals of normal blades. Although the Aegis was very different, in the end, they shared many of the same common design elements with normal blades. If he was careful, he could siphon off energy, information, material from a normal blade to make repairs to himself. If he drained them too much, however, it might destroy them forever, crumbling their core crystal to dust.

Suddenly, Malos got the feeling he was being watched. His eyes shot open, and he lowered his arm, ceasing the siphoning from the core crystal. He scanned around, narrowing his eyes, his vision piercing the dark. There was…

There. On the opposite side of the lake's shore. A lone figure, silhouetted against the moonlight, standing perfectly still. Watching him.

Malos was perfectly still. Who could it be, that was watching him at this hour? One of the others? Had they followed him? The figure didn't look like anyone in the party – they were tall like Zeke, but slimmer. Was it some stranger, walking along the isles, that had stumbled across him…? But who would be traveling so late at night?

Calmly, Malos began walking around the edge of the lake, towards the figure, making no attempt to hide. The figure didn't move, either, simply standing perfectly still. Silhouetted as he was, it was difficult to tell if he was even facing Malos, as he approached.

Malos got within ten feet of the figure, and then stopped. Something seemed so...strange, about it. It was still difficult to make out the particular features, even from this distance. All he could tell was that the figure seemed to be wearing a cloak and hood. And it seemed so...familiar, somehow.

"Hey," Malos called out to the figure. "Who are you? What are you doing?"

The figure didn't answer. He didn't even move.

Malos narrowed his eyes, then began stepping closer. He summoned his black blade to his hand, holding it down by his side cautiously. Something definitely wasn't right about all this. As he drew closer, he could see that the figure's cloak was tattered, worn. Drawing closer, he could finally see that the figure actually was facing directly towards him, distinguish details from the silhouette, and across his back he had strapped a large greatsword, a…

Malos paused, a mere five feet from the figure. That sword...it had a familiar charm, a small red tassle, hanging from the hilt. He'd recognize it anywhere. It was a small charm Lora had made for Addam, that he'd hung from his sword hilt, shortly after they had first met Lora and Jin.

"You haven't changed, Malos."

Malos flicked his eyes to where the figure's face would be, buried in the shadows of his hood. The voice emanating from there was...raspy, cold, echoing to him as if from a long, empty hallway. "Addam…?" he said, wonderingly. But that was impossible. What the hell was going on, here? Was this a hallucination...another dream?

"You haven't changed," the figure repeated, and now he drew his greatsword from its sheathe on his back. Malos raised his blade barely in time to catch the quick blow figure delivered, as he dashed forward, his sword raised high above his head.

"Who are you?" Malos snapped, as he stood his ground, their two swords hissing as they strained against each other. "You can't possibly be Addam. Addam's been dead for centuries."

"You stole my future from me, Malos," the figure hissed. "All I had ever wanted, all I had ever dreamed of, gone because of you." And suddenly the light shifted, and Malos could finally see within the figure's hood. It was Addam's face, but made of smoky, drifting shadow, and as the light hit it, the shadow disappeared, revealing a bleached, white skull. "And you'll do it again, and again, and again. It's what you are."

And suddenly, the figure disappeared. Gone, without a trace – simply there one moment, and then gone the next, all the pressure held up against Malos' sword vanishing in an instant, and he was left alone on the shore of the lake, staring about himself in shock.

**Note:**

I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's had the fortitude to read through this, it's a very long story I know, and it's always asking a lot for people to get invested in a fanfiction this long

Anyway as always, please leave a comment if you can


	22. Chapter 22

**16.**

Pandy awoke, as she normally did, curled up in Zeke's arms.

Zeke, though he had been raised in luxury, in the seat of Tantalese power in his youth, did not normally care that much about where he slept. Long years as a wandering mercenary had seen to that. He was currently stretched out, hands behind his head, laying with his back on a patch of soft grass. Pandy herself was a bit more picky about where she slept, but Zeke always made a fairly good mattress. She smiled to herself, a bit ruefully. Her insistence that he serve as her mattress, when they had no comfortable place to sleep, was probably half of what had led to their...current relationship. Zeke had been...somewhat oblivious to her advances, at first. He was a genius when it came to swordsmanship, and many other things besides, despite his eccentricities – there had been battles, wars they had fought in, and there were few men alive who could organize a strategy as well as Zeke – Amalthus, who was peerless, and perhaps the more clever of the Ardainian supreme command. But when it came to social graces, and being able to tell when a girl was interested in him, Zeke was...well, as much as she might love him, he was an idiot. But it was difficult even for Zeke to ignore a pretty girl pressing her body up against his in the night.

Of course, as amazing as Zeke might be in battle, he was not invincible. Her hand traced a line down Zeke's chest, lingering halfway down. She glanced around, furtively, then drew back his coat. There, in the midst of a brutal mass of scars on his chest, just barely covered by his coat, was the other half of her core crystal.

It had been a dark day indeed that had seen her core be split in two, one half implanted into Zeke to keep him alive. Hired by Ardainians to track down a shipment of core crystals that had gone missing – which she had now realized was probably part of the Brionac effort to amass core crystals before the war – their investigations had led them to the wilderness of Indol.

The bandits had to have been desperate, or stupid, to hide in Indol itself with a stolen shipment of core crystals. The Praetorium had extremely strict rules about the registration and distribution of blade cores, which it oversaw, and defiance was...well. The Praetor did not publicize the punishments. But the whispered rumors was that death was preferable to what the Praetorium would do to you.

As it had turned out, it was desperation that had driven the bandits to Indol's forests. They had a makeshift Titan craft that they had been hoping to pilot to safety – damaged by some storm, they had been forced to land on the Indoline Titan. Assuming that Pandy and Zeke had been there to round them up for the Praetorium, they had fought like cornered animals. Zeke, with his refusal to kill unless he thought it absolutely necessary, had first tried to talk with them, to try to get them to hand over the core crystal shipment in exchange for being let free. They had obviously thought that his assurances were nothing but lies, and had attacked him while in the middle of the negotiation. Bloodied, with arrows and blades sticking out from him, more wounded than Pandy had ever thought a human could be and still live, Zeke had fought his way out from their encampment, though he had collapsed not long after they had fallen out of sight.

Pandy still remembered the dread she had felt that day. The sick horror in the pit of her stomach when Zeke had collapsed, and she had finally had the time to examine his wounds, and she had realized he was most likely going to die. How her heart had twisted as she felt their ether bond fading as Zeke slowly slipped closer and closer to death.

She had had barely any time to dress his wounds at all before the shouts of pursuers echoed out through the forest. Sobbing, cursing Zeke for his foolishness, alternatively pleading with him not to die and cursing him for being so reckless, she had desperately dragged his body, futile as it was, away from the source of the shouting.

So intent had she been on rescuing Zeke, so distraught had she been at the thought of losing him, that she had not noticed when the shouts of her pursuers changed from those of coordination and aggression, to shouts of surprise, and then blood-curdling screams of horror. She had dragged Zeke's body to a stream, weeping as she tried to wash his wounds, whispering what she had been sure would be her final goodbye to her Prince in his ear. She had noticed, however, when the agonized screams died, giving way to eerie, complete silence.

She had looked up then, just on the edge of consciousness, her life fading along with that of her Driver's.

And there, standing at the edge of the forest, looking down at them with some interest, had been the Praetor, flanked by two of his white-robed warrior-monks. He had carried a long, thin sword that dripped with bright red blood, with fluid grace, he had wiped the blood clean with a white cloth as he approached them.

Though he looked much as any other Indoline man might – tall, lithe, with pointed ears and a mouth full of small fangs, skin a glittering greenish-blue, with subtle scales patterning across it at certain points of his face, and the back of his arms, Pandy had known, without even needing the introduction, that this man must have been Amalthus. There was...something about him, even more than the way his warrior-monks deferred to him. Almost as if you could feel history itself twisting and folding around him. Like looking at him was looking up at someone a thousand feet tall. Even though he wore none of the symbols of his office in the field, merely wearing long, loose, flowing white robes, and a black leather headband to hold back his white hair, he radiated authority and command, as surely as any king did. More so. And his eyes, Architect, his eyes – those intense, weighing eyes had been what had chased Pandy into unconsciousness, as she collapsed beside Zeke.

And those eyes had been the first thing she had seen when she had woken up, certain that she never would have. Awoken, in a sterile room, full of light, the Praetor staring down at her, now with his full priestly vestments, those eyes still sharp, weighing.

The Praetorium had access to core crystal technology that none else did – methods of manipulating and modifying core crystals in ways no other nation in the world could reproduce. Some said it was a legacy of their lineage being traceable back to Judicium, ancient nation whose experiments were spoken of with part wonder, part horror. Some said it was a result purely of Amalthus' personal brilliance. Regardless of where the methods came from, Indol had them – and they had carved Pandy's core crystal in two, implanting it into Zeke to save his life.

Pandy had been shocked, at first. She was more than willing to give up part of her core crystal to save Zeke, of course. But for it to have happened so suddenly...and what sort of effects did carving up her core crystal have on her…? It seemed like it had left all her powers intact, and she felt the same, and none of her memories were missing. To this day, she was still unsure what the effects of having half of her core crystal carved out of her were.

But she knew how it made her feel, to see her crystal embedded in Zeke's chest. It made her feel...like they were two halves of the same whole. As silly as it might sound, it made her heart flutter to think there was a part of her that was helping keep Zeke alive. And there were certain things she could feel through her core crystal, now…she could feel when Zeke was in pain, feel the pain as surely as if she had received the blow herself.

Still, she remembered the way the Praetor had looked at her as she awoke, when Zeke was still unconscious. Pandy was light-hearted and silly by nature, but the almost supernatural weight of his gaze had held her, pinned and still, as he regarded her, and then Zeke, all jokes, thanks, all words at all drying up and dying in her mouth. Finally, driven to anxiety by the long, silent stare of the Praetor, she had stammered out a half-hearted thanks for his saving of them.

The Praetor had merely continued regarding her quietly, until she thought she might crack under the probing intensity of that gaze. And then, remarkably, an expression of deep anguish had crossed his features, and he had wiped away an errant tear that had begun rolling down his cheek. When he spoke, he seemed less intense, less probing – in fact, he seemed very much simply a kindly, wise old monarch, dignified, judging, but benevolent.

He had offered them jobs as envoys of Indol, and Zeke, feeling indebted, had accepted. Indebted though he may have felt, he wasn't completely clueless – he knew the Praetor likely saw some political advantage in having saved him, though long nights discussing it had not given them any idea of what it was the Praetor thought he might be gaining.

But Pandy always remembered that long, calculating stare, and often wondered what it was the Praetor had been thinking of as he looked upon them in the hospice.

For, after all, the punishment of the Praetorium for unregistered blades was harsh, harsher than death. And Pandoria herself was an unregistered blade.

Pandy was stirred out of her reverie as Zeke stretched beneath her, his one eye blinking against the sunlight. "Ugh, morning already?" he muttered, then smiled as he glanced down at Pandy, still curled up against his chest, her hand idly tracing across it. "You know, most blankets don't play with my chest while I sleep."

Pandy leaned forward to give him a quick kiss, then whispered in his ear, "I can play with more than that-"

Zeke cut her off, glancing around furtively. "Please. Not where Poppi can hear. I'm still mortified."

**17.**

The others rose from their sleep slowly, until the beating tropical sun became uncomfortable in its heat. Leftheria was a lackadaisical, slow-paced land, and already the relaxed nature of the islands had begun seeping its way into their bones.

Rex was slowly packing up his belongings for the journey to Fonsett village, watching Tora and Poppi with some amusement. While Tora packed up his things, Poppi was staring curiously at a fat Tirkin that had come across their camp, a somewhat ragged old thing, dressed in what looked like the tattered remains of an old military uniform. The Tirkin was muttering to itself, approaching Tora to try to steal some of his things; every time he got close, Poppi would give him a little poke, and the old Tirkin would reel backward, falling over himself as if she had given him a solid shove. "Ah, that's just Captain Jack," Rex yelled, laughing, after the third time this happened. "He's harmless, really. How are things, Captain?"

The Tirkin turned towards Rex, eyeing him with one cloudy, beady eye. "Rex. M'boy." The Tirkin's voice was shrill, reedy, a croak that cracked with age. "Need provisions. For the war, y'see. Pirates, yes. I'm afraid I'm going to have to commandeer your supplies. Nothing personal. War effort business." This was the Captain's standard story, he was somewhat renowned for approaching strangers on the island and attempting to steal from them with this line. He had been bothering visitors for as long as Rex could remember, but never really got violent with them.

"Well, I'm sorry, but that's not happening," Rex said, then rummaged in his pack to produce a small sandwich, which he offered to the Tirkin. "But here you go. For the war effort, and all that."

"Hmmph. Hardly acceptable. But better than nothing." The Tirkin grabbed the sandwich, immediately popping it into his beak and beginning to chew. "I suppose I'll have to petition some of the more patriotic citizens around here for true supplies."

As he waddled off, Tora turned to Rex, a puzzled expression on his face. "Why Rex-Rex do that? He only going to keep bothering you for food now."

"Ah, it's no big deal, really. He's just a harmless old Tirkin who wants some food, yeah? Why not share some if I have it?"

Tora harrumphed, narrowing his eyes at the retreating form of the Tirkin. "But he so rude. Could at least ask nicely."

Rex shrugged, smiling. "Well, you know, he's clearly not all there. Maybe just doesn't want to feel like he's begging. Even if someone's a bit rude about it, might as well help them if they need it. Sometimes people have odd reasons for not asking for help, even if they really need it."

The journey to Fonsett was a few days, though they could have accomplished it faster if they had marched harder. But the idyllic island climate found them taking long lunch breaks, and stopping their marching long before sunset so they could have some time to relax on the beach. No one really objected to this; even Morag, with her usual soldierly impatience, had been taken in by the island's charms, which had a way of melting the worries from her mind after the harrowing experience in Mor Ardain. Though her concern never completely disappeared, after seeing so much blood and death, admiring a few simple sunsets surrounded by friends was something she appreciated.

It was during one of these evening breaks that Nia approached Malos and Rex with a particular intent. Rex and Malos were doing one of their meditation sessions, in the dying light of the day. These were a far cry, nowadays, from Rex's first meditations with Malos, when each one seemed likely to tear him apart. Whatever else the Dark Aegis was doing, he was truly training Rex to wield his power. Nia watched from a distance as Rex raised a hand, a globe of dark flame appearing in it, and it expanded, from the size of a small bird's egg to the size of his head, as he concentrated, until, with a flash, it zipped across the sand to crash into the Cloud Sea, leaving a perfect hole torn open in the mist as it devoured what it touched.

Rex opened his eyes and grinned at Malos, who nodded at him approvingly, and Nia tried her best to stifle her anger. Rex trusted Malos, and Brighid had said that Morag saw some good in the Dark Aegis too. And...it wasn't like Malos had been a complete bastard to her, in the time that she had known him. She was even...a bit fond of him, herself, in her own way.

_I mean, it will pay to be, right? After all, he's bonded to Rex, so when you-_

Blushing furiously, Nia silenced that voice. It wasn't the normal voice in her, the one that tormented her and haunted her dreams. This was a new voice, and not really a voice – she recognized it as her own desires. It had begun speaking to her more frequently after her dance with Rex in Mor Ardain. It was a voice that whispered furiously at her to kiss him, when she looked at him for some time, to kiss him and do...much more, besides. And to...have an ether bond with him.

She had to admit that the idea was...alluring. Not just the kissing, and all that. But when she had accidentally slipped into an ether bond with Rex...it had felt so incredibly right. Like being embraced in a warm hug after going years without physical contact.

Of course, she normally kept this voice small and faint. Letting it...fantasize...too much was likely to bring up the other voice, the sharp voice that stabbed through her soul like a knife, with a million reasons why everything she might want was a fool's request. And besides, right now was no time to be thinking of such things. There was something that...Malos should know, if he didn't already.

She watched, waiting, as Rex and Malos chatted after having rose from their meditation, sniffing at the happy grin on Rex's face as Malos patted him on the back. Finally, Rex left, going off to wash off the sweat of exertion from controlling the dark flame. Taking a deep breath, she stomped forward, resolutely, calling out to Malos before he had the chance to vanish, himself. "Hey!"

Malos turned to face her, one eyebrow raised questioningly, and for a moment, Nia paused. The Dark Aegis looked almost...haggard, dark circles beneath his eyes, which had none of their usual sharpness, the smile that usually barely constrained mocking laughter merely a thin, grim line. Regardless, she plunged forward. "Alright, Malos," she said, drawing in a deep breath, and pinning him with what she hoped was coming across as her sharpest glare. "We need to talk."

"Oh, I doubt we _need_ to," Malos said dryly. "But I get the feeling you're going to do it anyway." Regardless of how grim his expression might be, it seemed he kept some of his humor about him.

"No, we definitely need to," Nia said, her arms reaching out to pet Dromarch instinctively, and then crossing across her chest when she remembered he wasn't there. Dromarch had offered to come with her for this talk, but this was something she felt like she had to do one on one. "You know how your power hurts Rex, right?"

"This again?" Malos rolled his eyes with exasperation. "I told you, I only give Rex what he requests, and he knows the dangers-"

Nia shook her head, cutting off Malos before he could continue. "I...know that. I don't like it, but I know that. But...did you know, it's doing more than something physical to him?" Malos was silent, furrowing his brow, as Nia continued. "I can feel it. When he uses a lot of your power, it's like...even when I heal his wounds, there's a big one inside him that I can't heal myself. It slowly patches itself up….I don't know what it is, exactly..."

Malos was silent for a long moment as Nia trailed off. "I suspected something like this," he said quietly, after a while. "Fan...back when she was Haze….said she could sense something like that in Addam, shortly before the last battle. I don't know what it is, or how it hurts my drivers, either. But I did tell Rex there may be long-term consequences."

Nia felt her temper rising. "But does he even know? Does he even know how hurt he is right now? It feels to me like he's recovering from being beaten half to death. What are you even doing to him? What is it, if it's not physical?" Malos shrugged, and his lackadaisical apathy infuriated Nia even further. "Okay. Well, it's got to stop then. Until we figure it out, he has to stop using your power."

"No," Malos said simply.

Nia finally snapped, her voice raising to a shout. "Yes. Yes, it is going to stop. Maybe you don't care, but I told Vandham I would watch after him, and I intend to."

"This really doesn't have anything to do with Vandham, does it?" Malos' eyes bored into her. "Did you think I couldn't tell?"

Nia's face grew red, and she clenched and unclenched her fists as she stared up at the dark blade. "Fine," she whispered finally. "You want the truth? I can admit it. I love him." She blinked, surprised at herself for the willingness with which she was saying this in front of Malos. "And even if I can't have him, I won't ever stand by and watch you hurt him like that."

Malos rolled his eyes once more, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile. "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about you bonding with him. I'm bonded, too. Did you think I wouldn't be able to tell when another blade linked with him? That I wouldn't be able to figure out who it was?"

Nia's face burned even hotter for some reason. Malos knowing about that seemed like he knew about something even more intimate than the simple fact of Nia's love.

Malos continued, and now his voice was surprisingly gentle. "I know you love him. I get how that must make you feel, when you sense that injury in him."

"Do you," Nia said, laughing softly to herself. "Do you have any damn idea?"

Malos considered for a moment. "Maybe not, then. But know this." His eyes bored into her once more, cold, immovable, unforgiving, uncompromising. "Rex swore an oath. He made a promise. He accepted his duty, and he knows the risks. He _will _take me to Elysium. He _will _use my power, if necessary. _Rex belongs to me. _Not you._"_

Nia stared up at Malos, and his words stabbed through her. Her breathing became shallow, and there was a slight buzzing in her head. Part of her was whispering that of course this was the way things were, and what a fool she had been, for falling for a boy so bound up in something that would get him killed. And part of her was saying how Rex needed to be protected from Malos, that she had to protect him because she loved him. And part of her was...a deep, aching jealousy.

Malos seemed taken aback by the look of misery on her face. His gaze softened. "Once he's fulfilled his duty to me, then you-"

"It doesn't matter," Nia murmured to herself quietly. "I...know I don't deserve that, anyway. I would just hurt him, surely as you are. I just...want to see him live." She clutched a hand to her chest. If she lost another person she loved, she thought she might really go mad. She wanted to scream, to curse Malos from one end of creation to another, but she knew nothing she said or did was going to move him or change his mind. She was already failing Rex. Already failing him. But, damn it, she was going to fight. Not getting her way here didn't mean she had to completely surrender. "Alright. If you won't stop using your power, will you at least listen to me when I say to take it easy on him? Since it seems neither the two of you dolts can actually tell how bad it is at any given moment."

"Oh. That's actually a good idea." Malos pondered for a moment. "No lying to me about it, though. I'll be able to tell."

"Yeah, yeah," Nia muttered.

"I'm not kidding, Nia. You lie to me, and I'll tell Rex to keep his shirt on during training."

Nia looked up in surprise, at Malos grinning down at her. Despite it all, she gave a small smile herself. "Oh, shut up," she laughed.

**18.**

Rex's path led them across many small floating island-titans, connected by wide, winding paths of sandstone, all of them their own little paradises. Occasionally, they glimpsed traveling strangers, some of them alone, some traveling in small groups, some friendly and open, stopping to chat a bit, others strapped all about with weapons and staring at them suspiciously, giving them a wide berth. One of the islands was full of Tirkin, though Rex strolled by them with no fear. The Tirkin themselves seemed fat and happy, eating sweet island fruits, dancing around a small bonfire ringed about with their totems. Nia found herself wishing that she had made her way to Leftheria during her time running from Indol. No one here would have asked what she was, perhaps they would not have even cared if they knew. She could have hid here peacefully for a very, very long time.

As they continued along the islands, they drew closer and closer to the monumental wall of clouds. At first it had merely loomed in the distance, now it filled up the entire horizon. And suddenly, they were on an island that bordered it, where the massive mountain of clouds crept across the land in whirling, evaporating tendrils, and the group stood gasping in awe at the sight before them.

Rex grinned as they looked on in wonder. Their path led them straight _into _the mountain of clouds, through a tunnel that seemed carved into the Cloud Sea itself. They could enter it, and look above themselves and see an astounding array of sea life drifting by above their heads. Nia looked on in awe as a shark, large as a small fishing craft, drifted idly overhead.

"I have to say, I never saw anything like this," Morag murmured, her eyes wide, drinking it all in.

"Pretty impressive, eh?" Rex folded his arms, looking a bit satisfied with himself.

Malos, by his side, was looking around appreciatively. "So," he asked, suddenly, "How do you do it? Get the Cloud Sea to part for you like this, I mean. I didn't think anyone in Alrest would have the knowledge to do something like this."

"Oh. Um." Suddenly, Rex seemed a bit sheepish. "Actually, nobody really knows how this works. We have stories on Leftheria, from long ago...how there used to be folk called CloudSingers, who could shape the Cloud Sea the way they wanted. But, however that worked….if it was ever true, and not just a legend...well, it was lost, and nobody's known how to do it for a very long time."

Malos considered this silently, his face betraying no emotion.

"It's as the Praetor says," Fan la Norne said quietly, looking about her, sad wonder in her eyes. "We've lost more and forgotten more than we could ever dream of."

"Well," Morag replied, "Who's to say we couldn't figure out how to do it again?"

Fan graced her with a small smile. "That's the Ardainian spirit in you talking. Maybe you are right." But then she glanced around, and the sadness in her grew deeper. "But perhaps we just never will again be capable of wonders such as these."

They continued on through the long tunnel beneath the Cloud Sea. It was brisk, almost cold, within the tunnel, and Nia felt goosebumps rising on her flesh and suddenly wished that she had bought her jumpsuit along, instead of changing into the swimsuit. She clung on to Brighid, who raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing; Brighid radiated heat, just as a true fire would.

Finally, the tunnel opened up onto a large island, this one dominated by a small, craggy mountain. Rex led them around the side, again sticking close to the shoreline, until suddenly, the curving path revealed to them a small cluster of buildings in the distance, small, wooden buildings, some painted cheerfully garish colors, surrounded by a few farms guarded by stone walls just a few feet high.

Rex's face broke into a broad grin at the sight of it, even his normally sunny disposition grew brighter. "Fonsett Village," he said, . "No place like home."

As they walked up the main path to the village, the cries of laughing children greeted them. There, in the village square, looking like a slab of the mountain, lay Gramps, curled tightly between the wooden buildings. Small children leaped and laughed as they played on his back, and the Titan looked as if he was sleeping.

"Hey, Gramps!" Rex called, laughing. "You having fun there?"

Gramps opened one large, yellow eye, raising his head, which towered over the buildings surrounding him, giving a large, toothy grin. "Ah, Rex," he rumbled. "You took long enough." He cast an eye at the group following Rex, staring curiously at Poppi's new form, and Zeke, Pandy and Fan. "And you've made new friends, I see."

"Auntie Corinne! Rex is here! REX IS HEEEEEERRRE!"

And with that cry, Rex was sent hurtling backwards as numerous small forms slammed into him with a blur, as dozens of small children came running towards them all, crowding around them, bombarding them with questions.

"Rex! Gramps says you're going to Elysium. I said no way, Rex is stupid, but not THAT stupid-"

"Hey lady, that's an Ardainian uniform, isn't it? Are you Ardainian? Is the Empire gonna invade our village? Is this an invasion? Are we part of the Empire now? Will I get a cool uniform too? Where's my uniform?"

"Hey mister, how'd you lose your eye? Were you running with scissors? Auntie Corinne tells me that's what happens when you run with scissors. You shouldn't have run with scissors."

"Are any of you Rex's girlfriend? Does he have a girlfriend now?"

"I bet it's the robot. A robot girlfriend would be so cool."

"Children, children!" A woman's voice cried. The party looked up. An older, stout woman, with dark skin and silver hair, was laughing, her hands on her hips, as she watched the children mob the group of strangers. "What have I told you, now? Don't go swarming the guests! Even if they are Rex's friends."

"Yes, Auntie Corinne," the children said in unison, some of them a bit sullen.

The children parted before her, allowing her closer to look at the group. Though her voice had been kind, Corinne had hard stares for the weapons among the group, and a particularly hard one for Morag and her Imperial armor. And a sad stare for the sword Rex carried on his back. Malos, though, drew the hardest stare of all, and Nia understood why: Corinne was evaluating Rex's new friends, and none radiated danger and violence like Malos did. Suddenly, Corinne's eyes slid over her, then flicked over to Rex, back to her, and a small, almost imperceptible smile rose on her lips. Nia realized that she had been standing next to Rex, and her eyes widened with the thought of what the eagle-eyed woman might be suspecting now. Corinne seemed to pick up on that too, and her smile grew even wider; finally she turned her gaze to Rex. "Rex, sweetheart, it is so good to see you. And with so many friends! Gramps has been telling the wildest tales about you. I figured he was playing tricks with me, but you certainly do have some unusual friends with you. Come on, come on, you will have to tell me all about it. Bring your friends to my place, you know I always have plenty of beds, and if not at least couches or mattresses to sleep on, and plenty of hot dinner...oh, Rex, welcome home."

**19.**

Corinne shepherded them all to her home, which was easily the largest house in the village, larger than many inns would be, the children streaming in after her. The kitchen she quickly bustled into was also immense, multiple ovens baking an enormous feast, though with this many children it must be that every meal she served was a feast. Some of the older children helped her in the kitchen as Corinne bustled her guests into a large living room, decorated with nearly half a dozen couches – though she had to split her attention between watching the mischief of the children, and monitoring the cooking, she made it look easy, never once seeming exasperated or overwhelmed. The children seemed playful, and cheerful enough, but a sharp word from Corinne, or even just a meaningful glance, and they would quickly cease any mischief they might be up to.

The children quickly began bombarding them with questions again, once Corinne had them all settled down in the room; there was a rumbling from outside, and Nia glanced out a window to see, with some surprise, one of Gramp's humongous eyes peering in. When he spoke, the room rumbled, and they could hear him clear through from the outside – he had questions as well, wanting to know what they had been up to in Mor Ardain. Rex kept laughing, telling them that he'd tell everyone what he had been up to once dinner was served.

A crowd of young boys was surrounding Zeke and Pandy, all of them gaping in awe at his eyepatch, they seemed to find him incredibly cool, although all of them got attention from some of the children, Poppi probably the second most, seemingly unperturbed by the little hands reaching out inquisitively to poke and prod, standing still as some of the children climbed over her looking for latches and hatches to open as Tora whipped them into a frenzy describing some of their capabilities.

Nia found herself and Dromarch surrounded by some cautious children, most of them interested in the big cat, who allowed them to pet him even if his tail did twitch from time to time. One little girl, however, who could be no more than six, plopped herself right into Nia's lap with no trace of shyness, holding a sheaf of papers.

"Um, hello," Nia said, looking down at the little girl, who had long, wild dirty blond hair shooting out unkempt in all directions, with many multi-colored ribbons tied haphazardly into it.

The girl looked up at her with an expression so severe that it was almost funny to see it on such a young face. "Rex says...yer an artist, like me," she said, waving the sheaf of papers under Nia's nose. "I'm gonna show you my drawings."

Nia glanced up at Rex, catching his eye, he shrugged apologetically, mobbed as he was by a crowd of children.

"Hey! My drawings are down here, not across the room," snapped the little girl. "Look here. This one is a drawing of me beating up Johnny because he says he can run faster than me but I ran faster than him but he says he won just because I tripped at the end _but I ran faster_ so now I'm beating him up."

"You didn't trip, Lisa!" cried one of the children who was petting Dromarch, glaring at her. "I beat you fair and square-"

"_This one_ is a drawing of me as a dinosaur, eating Johnny because he tells lies," Lisa continued casually, as if she couldn't hear anything.

Finally, Corinne and a few of the older orphans bought in the food, great steaming baskets of buns, platters of cooked vegetables, multiple plates piled high with meat. The children fell upon them eagerly, and the food disappeared pretty rapidly. Every meal, Nia realized, must cost a fortune, taking care of this many children.

After dinner, relaxing, Rex told them all of his journey so far, starting with the day he had met Nia and accepted the job to find Malos. He stopped short of explaining that Malos was anything other than a particularly powerful blade – no need to cause the children to worry about entire Titans being destroyed. The children oohed and ahhed at the fact that Rex was a driver now, and Nia was intensely aware of Corinne giving her a very thorough, appraising look when Rex described how she had healed him.

It had grown late by the time Rex had described his time with the Urayan mercenaries, and Corinne declared that some of the younger children ought to be getting to bed. It was just as well, for the tale quickly grew darker from there – it was probably best that the children did not hear about a bloody, murderous coup in Mor Ardain, or the impending, disastrous war it heralded. Gramps growled, a savage, feral sound, when he heard of the death wrought by Brionac. "Perhaps I should have stayed with you," he muttered. "Perhaps I could have scared them into keeping their guns pointed away, at least."

Corinne listened to the tale intently – if she disapproved of anything Rex was doing, or the path he had chosen, she did not let it show, though she always had cold, hard eyes for Malos, who stood in the shadows of the room, leaning against a wall, arms crossed, listening to Rex speak. "Well, that's quite a story," she said, in a low, soft voice, after Rex had finished. Night had settled, and even among the older orphans who had stayed up to listen to the story, many of them were nodding off. "It sounds like you've been traveling hard for quite some time, Rex. I don't know how you still managed to send us money. You're an angel."

Corinne insisted that they stay a while in Fonsett, to rest up and shake some of the travel out of their bones, and insisted further that they allow her to restock their supplies with fresh food, fresh clothes, and to wash the travel out of the ones they wore.

The house was suddenly a busy, quiet chaos of orphans shuffling off to bed as Corinne pulled out spare blankets and clothes and busied herself in setting up bedding for the night. Nia found some clothes thrust into her hands, as Corinne quickly directed her to a bathroom to change, telling her to throw the swimsuit she wore into a giant pile of laundry she was collecting.

The clothes Corinne had given her were an old, gray, faded t-shirt, a bit long for her, a bit baggy, but otherwise a surprisingly good fit, and a pair of old shorts. They felt extremely comfortable as she pulled them on – for some reason, they were soothing to wear. Perhaps it was whatever soap Corinne washed them in – she bunched up the shirt and took a deep breath of it, and calm and comfort washed over her.

As Nia stepped out of the bathroom, she noticed that somehow the hallway had emptied of people. Emptied, that is, except for Corinne, who stood casually folding towels next to the bathroom closet, and placing them in there. Nia got the sudden suspicion that it was not a mistake that they had wound up alone together.

"Ah," Corinne said, glancing over at her. "Nia, that was your name, right? Those clothes fit well?"

"Yeah, they do, actually. Thanks." Nia stretched out, one hand above her head.

Corinne had a small twinkle in her eyes. "I thought they might. Those are some of Rex's old clothes, he's not that much bigger than you."

Nia was a bit surprised, but didn't think much of it. Wearing some old clothes of Rex's wasn't any big deal...until she remembered how just moments ago, she had been thinking of how good they smelled, and how she had breathed in their scent. That sent her cheeks burning, and she immediately regretted it, because she was absolutely certain Corinne noticed. The woman was watching her like a hawk, eyes twinkling in the dim light of the hallway.

"I have to thank you, for helping out my Rex so much," Corinne said, as Nia's ears twitched nervously. She paused, meaningfully. "He seems very fond of you." Nia could almost hear the implication behind that statement. _And you of him? _

"Yeah, well," Nia muttered, trying not to let panic rise into her voice as she desperately looked for an escape. "Someone has to watch after the reckless idiot."

If Corinne was offended by Nia's insults of Rex, she showed no signs of it, if anything, she seemed even more approving than before. She put the last of the towels in the closet, and took at step toward Nia, who couldn't help but feel a bit like she was a mouse being toyed with by a cat. "Now, you are a very pretty one," Corinne murmured to herself. "I think you and I ought to have a talk sometime, while you're here."

"Wh-what about," Nia found herself stammering, and Corinne's raised eyebrow in return perfectly communicated _you know very well what about _without the older woman having to say a single word.

Suddenly, there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind them, and Rex appeared at the top of them. "Auntie Corinne," he said, once he spotted her, "D'you need any help with-" and then he noticed Nia, standing beyond her, and immediately stopped, staring, blushing a deep crimson.

"I don't need help with anything," Corinne said softly, and Nia just knew she was drinking in that blush on Rex's face. "Don't you worry about anything, Rex. Just find a place to bed down." She walked towards the stairwell, looking back at the both of them, her eyes lingering on Nia's, silently saying _Oh yes, we'll talk very soon._ Then she disappeared down the stairs, leaving Rex and Nia alone.

"Well," Nia said softly, after a few moments. "What is it? What's that blush for?"

"It's nothing," Rex said quietly. "I...just..." he trailed off, mumbling something about seeing her dressed in his shirt.

Nia felt the fire rising in her blood, almost the same as she had felt in Mor Ardain, the night she had drank the wine, the only difference now that there was no wine in her blood to explain the fire. She drew closer to Rex, her eyes twinkling in the dim light of the hallway. "You are a strange one," she said, her voice still low. "My swimsuit didn't impress you at all, but just seeing me in your t-shirt..."

"It's….about context," Rex snapped. "You...expect to see some skin with a swimsuit, but..." He gulped, looking away. "Besides, who says your swimsuit didn't impress me?"

Nia approached Rex, until she was standing only inches from him. She closed her eyes. There was no doubt about it now, it was the lingering scent of Rex on the t-shirt she wore that had made it so comfortable. She would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the effect she was having on Rex. Lying, if she said it didn't set her on fire as well.

Suddenly he looked at her, and the expression on his face...it made Nia glad they were in a house occupied with many people, because with the fire coursing through her veins, and that expression, if they were in a place they could have gotten some privacy...Nia wasn't sure what she might have done. _You could always run off with him into the forest, _a quick thought flitted across her mind, and she decided she had to go to bed quickly before that thought became more insistent. "Good...good night, Rex," she murmured, squeezing past him to go find a couch to sleep on downstairs.

**20.**

They ended up staying in Fonsett for some time. Rex was apprehensive, at first, not wanting to take up too much of Corinne's resources for taking care of the children – and Fonsett, while comfortable, was small, and clearly poor. But the farmers surrounding the village had bought in a rich harvest this past year, and fishing from the Cloud Sea had been plentiful. Ironically, where many other richer, more powerful nations worried about supplying enough food, Fonsett, small and poor, had more than enough to spare. It was enough to make Morag worry that they might attract the….wrong kind of attention, eventually from more powerful nations, but in the end it was not as if Leftheria had an abundance of farmland. It was merely that not many people lived there.

Still, despite Corinne's insistence that they were not a burden, the party felt obligated to find ways to pay for their stay there. Tora, after a few days examining some pile of scrap metal dredged up by salvagers with his quick, clever eyes, set about setting up an automated sprinkler system for the farmers, Poppi's massive strength bending and shaping the metal into pipes used to carry the water. Morag found herself giving history lessons at the local schoolhouse to some of the older children, along with Brighid, supplementing the lessons with documentary from her journal. The children seemed particularly interested in the subject of the Aegis war, though the two were wary of teaching it. After all, Rex had hidden Malos' true identity, and they were not sure how the children would react to the idea of the Aegis walking among them. Fan la Norne taught the children as well, but the younger children, reading them stories of myth and legend, as they sat around her, in rapt attention. Fan seemed particularly popular with the young children, perhaps for her kind and gentle ways, and she seemed...happier, with them. Some of the subtle sadness drained out of her as she read to them, and her smiles seemed radiant.

Nia, for her part, found herself healing the many scraped knees and minor cuts that a group of rowdy children inevitably accumulated, not to mention the colds and fevers. She was a bit surprised at how happy it made her. Children tended to get on her nerves even at the best of times, but being able to soothe their wounds...it was nice. It wasn't long before word spread of a healer, and soon not just the children, but the farmers were coming to her as well, aching muscles here, a wheezing cough there, a broken toe, a nasty cut from mishandling farm equipment. She healed them all, always with a sharp tongue berating them to not be such clumsy fools and to be more careful, but secretly she felt more content than she could ever remember being. She had been a wanderer for a long time, and she had grown to like it, to never staying in one place long enough to form attachments, but she found herself idly wondering what it would be like to live a life like this, a life of healing, and she found the thought….very attractive. Occasionally, as she tended to people, she would glance up to see Corinne watching her, an approving smile on her face beneath those weighing, appraising eyes. Corinne was a good woman, but she made Nia nervous. She couldn't help but feel like Rex's 'Auntie' was sizing her up like a piece of meat.

Malos, for his part, was true to his word. At Nia's insistence, he gave Rex a break from training him in the ways of his power. But that did not mean that Rex's training stopped completely. He still dueled with Malos, and Zeke, as well, stepped in to train him.

"We wield similar weapons," Zeke said, standing in a sand pit by the edge of town. Pandy stood behind him, tail flicking curiously, and Malos stood behind Rex, his arms crossed.

Rex unsheathed Vandham's claymore, then looked at Zeke's weapon. Zeke's humongous, two-handed sword was bigger than Rex himself was. Hell, it might be _heavier _than Rex himself was. He had tried lifting it once, and nearly tore his arm out of its socket. Zeke, he had realized, must be incredibly strong to not just lift it, but to swing it around in battle like he did. "I dunno how similar they can be, really..."

Zeke tsked. "Mine's bigger, it's true-" he gave Pandy a sharp glance as she snickered behind him, but she remained silent - "but the principle is the same. Heavy, two-handed blades...any heavy, two-handed weapons, really. Other types of weapons, they train people to consider them a part of their body." He nodded off in the distance, where Morag was watching, leaning against a tree. "Take Morag, there. Those small blades of hers, she wields them like they're a part of herself. But that's simply not possible with large weapons." He hefted his blade into the air, lifting it above his head, then, letting gravity simply carry it, it slammed down, just the mere force of its own weight driving it a few feet into the ground. "Something like this, it's never going to feel like part of my body. There's simply too much to it."

Rex glanced back at Malos. "Ah...Malos, when he fights...it seems like his sword is a part of his body, and it's big like my claymore."

Zeke glanced at the Dark Aegis, who was still watching the training session impassively, not saying a word. "Malos wields what is called a bastard sword, or a hand-and-a-half sword. It's meant to switch between being wielded in one hand and wielded in both. And he has the strength to carry it lightly, in one hand. I know you carry it in battle sometimes, but, ah...I doubt you have the strength to wield it effectively one-handed."

Rex bristled at that, but Malos spoke up. "In a way, my sword _is _a part of me." He nodded towards Zeke, approvingly. "Listen to what he's saying, Rex. He knows what he's on about."

"These weapons," Zeke continued, lifting his sword out of the sand, "Think of them more like...a dance partner. With you in the lead. You direct them, you decide where they spin...but you have to take into consideration their weight, their momentum, how far they might carry you when they swing. Now come on, show me how you dance."

Zeke and Rex practiced quite often in the sand pits by the edge of town, sometimes with Malos watching, sometimes now. The Dark Aegis spent much of his time on the edge of town, staring up at the mountain that dominated the center of the island, a curious look on his face. Though it was widely known he was Rex's blade, the people of Fonsett seemed to avoid him instinctively. It was curious, in a way, how far they went out of their way to avoid conversation with him, even going so far as to walk in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. Malos did nothing to cause this behavior – he did not act particularly threatening, inasmuch as Malos always carried a slight aura of threat.

No more visions of Addam came to him after that first night. But he didn't need visions to be constantly reminded of Addam, here. The people of Fonsett – many of them, they had echoes of Addam within them, his sense of humor, his lackadaisical attitude that nevertheless had a fierce loyalty and sense of duty buried not far beneath it, his eyes...there was no need for a ghost to be haunted by Addam here.

Not that he believed in ghosts. Malos knew, better than most, that the dead stayed dead. What he believed in was his own malfunctioning brain. The damage done by Mythra's final blows on him in the Aegis war, the crumbling ruins of large swathes of his mind. Something was certainly...interacting strangely, in these damaged parts. First the vision of Mythra during the Aegis war, and now a vision of Addam. Malos redoubled his efforts in draining the core crystals, not just the core crystal of the nameless monster they had fought in Uraya, but the core crystals of Roc and Aegaeon, as well, in an attempt to repair himself.

He didn't enjoy the skulking about that he had to do. But he knew enough about humans and blades to know that they'd react badly to the draining of core crystals, particularly those of blades that they had known previously. To him, he didn't see why – the reasoning was simple. Their primary concern was Mythra. Having him, Malos, at full strength, and full capacity, when they fought Mythra, would be far more of an advantage than having a few more blades at their side. And the blades themselves were not being consumed – the only effect that it was having was to delay their awakening. Malos was careful to never drain so much that the crystal cores themselves would drain out and die. Just a leeching of a bit of energy, and then giving them time to regenerate and heal.

But he knew they wouldn't accept this reasoning. Oh, maybe some of them would. Rex, perhaps, and maybe even Nia, he could convince. For all her passions, Nia was a realistic girl – he thought she'd be able to see his reasoning. The others, though...Brighid, in particular. She had struck up a friendship with Roc, and he knew she was particularly close with Aegaeon. No, Brighid would not approve at all. Well, it didn't matter. He would do what needed to be done.

**21.**

It was another relaxed, sunny day in Fonsett that found Nia hiding out in the woods, practicing her carving on a small hunk of wood she had scavenged from the forest floor.

She was not hiding for any particular reason. It was just, with the farmers all mended for the day, and the children's bruises and scrapes seen to, it was nice to get away for some alone time. It was definitely not because she was avoiding talking to Corinne, who had been trying to connive ways to corner her alone while taking care of the children. "Bless their rotten little hearts for keeping her so busy," Nia muttered to herself.

Her ears flicked upward suddenly, as she caught some sound of someone approaching. Gormotti ears were better for hearing than most. She narrowed her eyes, glancing around for the source of the noise, then grinned mischievously and ducked behind a tree.

It was Rex, out taking a stroll through the woods by himself. Smiling to herself, she began gathering some pinecones from the forest floor. She bet she could nail him right in the head with one without being seen. Maybe even spook him out, get him back for all those damn ghost stories he had told. Oh, the look on his face would be priceless.

She gathered her ammunition, then trailed Rex, ducking from tree to tree. She still wore one of his old t-shirts, tied around her midriff, and a pair of his old shorts that she had cut shorter, to show off her legs. He liked her legs, she could tell – at least she caught him looking often enough. The look on his face when she walked around wearing his clothes was simultaneously hilarious and thrilling. She wore no shoes, but then again it wasn't unusual for Gormotti to go without them, even when walking around outside, and it made it that much easier for her to stalk him.

She followed, drawing closer and closer when she dared, though Rex seemed deep in thought, and did not seem like he noticed anything around him whatsoever. Suddenly though, he veered, exiting the forest, where it led to a tall cliff overlooking the Cloud Sea. Nia cursed beneath her breath, standing at the edge of the forest, watching Rex curiously. She couldn't leave the woods, there was no place for her to hide.

Rex trotted placidly, up to the top of the cliff, and knelt down in the grass. With a start, Nia realized that there were two tombstones there. "Hey, Mom. Dad." Rex's voice was heavy with sadness, as he began speaking to the graves, telling them much the same story he had told in Corinne's house, the story of all his journeys so far, though there was much more emphasis now on how dearly he wished to meet Elysium.

And, Nia realized quickly, more emphasis on...her. She blushed furiously as Rex described her as amazing, kind, beautiful. True, he also called her sharp-tongued and stubborn, but well….she could admit she was a bit sharp-tongued. 'Stubborn' rankled at her, though. Rex was the damn stubborn one, not her.

"I just know you guys would love her," Rex said, quietly, and there was a hitch in his voice as he spoke, as if he was holding back tears.

Suddenly, Nia glanced around, ashamed. Regardless of what Rex was saying about her, he should be given his privacy. It wasn't right to eavesdrop on his visit to his parent's grave like this. She backed up, but suddenly her foot trod on an old, dry branch, which cracked in two with a loud snap.

Rex's head shot up, and he looked back to the woods suspiciously, wiping a tear from his cheek. "Who's there?" he called out, narrowing his eyes.

Nia hissed, considering running. But Rex was already getting to his feet, and she knew with his boundless energy that he could outrun her, that there was no way she'd be able to keep herself out of his sight if she decided to run. Reluctantly, she stepped out from behind the tree. Rex's eyes widened to see her, and he began to blush. "Hey, Rex. I, uh, I just stumbled on you," she lied. She motioned down to her hands, still full of pinecones. "I was gonna...toss these at you, but then I noticed you were...um...talking to your, you know...so I was gonna leave you alone..."

The blush dimmed from Rex's face somewhat. "Oh," he said, and he gave a small grin. "I was just telling mom and dad about you." As Nia lingered, uncertain, by the fringes of the forest, he extended a hand out toward her. "You...wanna come keep me company?"

Nia followed Rex, with some trepidation. He didn't return to his parent's graves, though. Apparently, he had said all he needed to say. Instead he walked beyond them, towards the edge of the cliff, where he laid down in the grass, looking up at the sky. Nia paused, for a moment, then laid down next to him. "Did you...know them very much?" she asked, quietly.

"Nah." Rex continued looking up at the sky, not looking over at her. He still seemed...somewhat somber. Even considering he had been visiting his parent's graves. "I don't even remember them at all, really. They died when I was just a baby. And nobody from around the village even knew them at all, they were strangers who stumbled in, half-dead. I never even knew anyone who knew who they were. Never had any idea who they were at all."

Nia didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure what was worse. Knowing your family, and loving them, only to lose them, or to never have them at all. She simply wormed her hand into Rex's. After a moment, Rex squeezed it.

"You said your dad is a lord, right?" Rex said, after they had spent some time watching the sky. "Maybe we can visit him sometime. Maybe after Indol."

"Was a lord," Nia murmured. "He….passed away some time back."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Rex did not press any further, and suddenly, Nia was ashamed of herself once again. She had been a member of Torna, a member of the organization that had nearly killed Gramps, that had killed Vandham, that was planning Architect knew what else, and yet...Rex never pressed her on her past. He accepted her for who she showed herself to be. No...more than that. He more than accepted her. He…

"I had a sister," Nia said, very quietly. "She...got very sick. Dad bankrupted himself trying to save her. And after she died, the collectors came calling. We had to move….live rough, on the run...it wasn't long before dad died, too. I've been...on my own, since then."

Rex didn't say anything, either. He simply squeezed her hand in turn. They lay there, watching the clouds race across the sky, watching the sun grow lower and lower. Nia had just about nodded off to sleep when Rex said, suddenly, from her side, "You know, there's no fancy restaurants here. You want to just do a picnic on the beach?"

Nia rose, stretching. "Eh? I mean...yeah, sure, I could go for a bite to eat right now."

Together, they both walked back through the forest, stopping by Corinne's house to pick up some food for a picnic. Mercifully, the woman herself wasn't around to spot them, or else Nia was certain she'd have enough stares and smiles to drive her half out of her mind.

Rex himself...continued to seem somber. As if something was dimming his light. He had no cheerful jabs for her. Instead, the normally light-hearted and joking Rex seemed unusually serious. He kept on giving Nia long glances as he led her down to the beach, as if he was considering something.

They sat on a blanket, looking over the Cloud Sea, and as they ate, Rex was mostly silent. He didn't have answers for her jabs, didn't seem very interested in the food, either, eating only a couple of bites. Nia began to feel a bit tense as the sun set, casting the Cloud Sea in a reddish-orange haze. "Alright," she snapped, finally, "What's up with you? You've been staring out at the clouds like they're talking to you this whole time."

Rex glanced over at her, again with that considering, contemplating look. "I'm sorry, I haven't been very good company, have I," he said, giving her a weak smile. "It's just...look, can you keep something quiet?"

"Of...of course," Nia replied, suddenly serious herself. "What is it?"

Rex was quiet for a few moments. "Auntie Corinne is sick," he said, suddenly.

"Sick?" Nia furrowed her eyebrows. "Well...she seems healthy enough to me..."

"She's good at hiding it." Rex drew his knees up to his chest. "And it's not the kind of sick that...strikes you down, right away. It comes and goes. She's….already been to the Praetorium, to the healers there. They say..." he looked down, drawing a shuddering breath. "They say she's got a year or two left. Less, now. She's known for a while, but...she didn't want to worry me. She only bought it up now because she wanted to make plans for...who would run the orphanage...when she was...when she was gone."

"Well," Nia said, crossing her arms. "Let me take a crack at her, yeah? Sickness is a bit different from injury, but I can heal that, too."

"I knew you'd say that." Rex smiled at her, deep and genuine, in a way that made her heart race. "You can look, if you'd like. But she's already had entire teams of healers examine her. I know you're good, but...I can't...get my hopes up."

"I mean, I can't promise anything," Nia said quietly. "But...I can try."

Rex took her hands in his, suddenly. Nia's heart pounded faster in her chest. His eyes lifted from the ground to meet hers, and they seemed to fill her entire vision. "I wanted to tell you something," he said, quietly. "Auntie being sick...it...made me think about things a bit. Made me think that...I ought to tell people how much I appreciate them while they're here to hear it."

Nia's heart was a hammer in her chest, and her mouth dried. She couldn't seem to work any words out of it. She felt a deep tug, at the core of her being, and she realized that it was the beginnings of an ether bond, but unlike before, where her accidental bondings with Rex had been subtle, so subtle that she had not even noticed they were happening, this one was strong, a tug so strong that she could not have stopped it even if she tried. "Rex," she gasped, but it was all she could manage to force out.

"You were...the first one to believe in me trying to make it to Elysium," Rex said, quietly. "When everyone else we met thought I was a fool. And through all the pain Malos' power put me in...you were always there to take it away." A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "And tell me what an idiot I was...when I needed to hear it. And...to be fair...sometimes when I didn't."

Nia couldn't speak. She could feel Rex's emotions, through the ether bond, shining clear as day, as bright as the sun, clarion as a trumpet call. She knew where this was going, and oh, how sweet it felt. And how terribly, terribly bitter.

"I...feel like I can trust you, more than anyone," Rex was saying, and a knife stabbed through Nia's heart.

_Hear that, Nia? He trusts you. He trusts you, when you know how he shouldn't. _

It was her sister's face, her sister from the dream, her sister with blood running down her dress, her sister with the cruel smile, filling her mind. _Look what you've gone and done. I told you, if you truly loved the boy, you would leave him alone._

_HE BELONGS TO ME, _Malos' voice thundered in her head. _DUTY. DEATH. HE BELONGS TO ME._

Rex put his hand against Nia's face, and this time she couldn't resist it, couldn't resist nuzzling against it. Rex's soul, his feelings, still shone through the ether bond like warm, golden light, and Nia cursed him for how beautiful it was, cursed herself for how right it felt, still completely unable to undo the bond. If this went on, she realized, she wasn't going to be able to resist, no matter how much she knew she should.

"Nia," Rex said, "I..."

"Rex, wait," Nia gasped, still holding on to some tiny scrap of self-control. "Please."

His eyes filled with a bit of alarm. "I'm...I'm sorry...was I..." He tried removing his hand, but Nia caught it and held it in place. It felt too right, where it was.

_Go ahead, and break his heart,_ Nia's sister taunted in her mind. _You have to, now. It's the only responsible thing. But then again, it's the right thing to do, so you won't do it, will you?_

Nia forced that voice down. Still, it was right, after a fashion. She didn't want to hurt Rex. But she didn't….deserve this, from him. She didn't deserve that trust, definitely didn't deserve the feelings he had for her. She could never deserve something so beautiful. No matter how it ached to feel it through the ether bond, no matter how right it felt. "I...don't deserve this," she muttered.

Rex arched an eyebrow. "I...what do you mean?"

"You...deserve someone better..." Nia's head was in a fog, barely able to think.

Rex gave her a quizzical look, and none of the heartbreak Nia was worried would appear showed in his eyes. Instead, he looked mildly amused. "Look, trust me, I don't know what you're on about, but you're more than good enough. It's not a matter of 'deserving', or anything like that-"

Nia almost laughed a bitter laugh. "If you knew how I really was, you wouldn't say that."

"I _do _know how you really are," Rex shot back. "We've known each other for some time now. I've never seen you be anything other than wonderful. A little sharp, sometimes, sure. Well, more than a little," he said wryly. "But...I like that about you too."

"How could you possibly think I'm wonderful?" Nia asked. This time she did laugh. It was just like Rex. Here she was, roiling with emotions, and Rex was just being as stubborn as a mule, like always. "You really are an idiot."

Rex rolled his eyes. "How, she asks. When you've healed me more times than I can count. Everyone I know adores you. My whole village is wild about you. How could you possibly think you're not?" Suddenly, some sadness did enter his eyes. "Look...if you don't...feel the same way...you can tell me, alright? I won't...ah...make it weird, or anything, I promise. I'll still be your friend-"

Nia grabbed Rex by his shirt and pulled him in, kissing him.

It was like a bolt of electricity shot through her body, when her lips touched his. _Idiot, _her sister's voice rang inside her head. _Greedy, stupid, selfish monster._ But that was nothing compared to what she felt when he began kissing her back. Her mind went blank, and even her sister's voice disappeared into nothingness. She didn't know how long it lasted. She just knew when it was over, and her forehead was resting against Rex's, and they were both slightly out of breath, staring into each other's eyes.

"I think," Rex said, finally recovering, "I may be becoming a bit confused."

Nia could feel his emotions, still, through the ether bond. Roaring like an inferno, shining like a star. In her stupid greed, she had done exactly what she shouldn't have. She just couldn't stand that sadness in his eyes. "I'm so awful to you," she murmured. _Damn him, he just had to be a good kisser._

"If that was awful, I'd like some more bad treatment, please," Rex replied.

Nia closed her eyes. Everything he said was like sweet music that rang through her heart like a bell. It was the ether bond, she knew. She couldn't think clearly with that radiant beauty shining on to her through the bond. She threw all her strength into retracting the connection. For a moment, she didn't think it would be enough. But finally, she managed to sever it. What would have happened, she wondered, if she hadn't been able to? Rex would have noticed eventually, surely. Gently, she moved away from him, away from the embrace they had become entangled in when they kissed. She didn't look him in the face. She knew if she did, she might feel tempted to reach out and bond again, and she didn't know if she'd be able to sever it a second time. And if she saw the hurt there, in those eyes, she'd kiss him again, and she knew she wouldn't be able to stop. "It's...not you, at all, in the slightest. Okay? Can you trust me? About that?"

She felt Rex's hand on her shoulder, and she shivered, almost reaching out to bond again, but steeled herself. It was just Rex, she admonished herself. Just Rex. She couldn't let just his touch have that effect on her. Architect, she was going to have to see him every day, she couldn't let him get to her that much. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Look, like I said, I can handle-"

"Yes I'm sure, you stubborn bastard!" she cried, not turning around to look at him, interrupting him before sadness could creep into his voice. She couldn't stand to hear it, she knew, she just knew if she heard it she'd turn around and kiss him and never stop.

"Alright, okay, I trust you," he said, and mercifully there was no sadness in his voice. He sounded confused, and a bit happy, if anything. "But look, can you trust me about something…? You really are amazing, alright? I don't...I can't tell why you think you aren't. But you are."

_Will he still think that, when he finds out you're a Flesh Eater? Will he still trust you, when he finds out you've been hiding that from him this whole time?_

"You are such an idiot, Rex," Nia murmured. "Such a blasted, wonderful, beautiful idiot."

Rex watched after Nia as she walked away, rubbing the back of his head. The sight of her in his clothes still dried his mouth. But, Titan's foot, was he confused. "I need some advice about women," he muttered to himself. "Maybe Zeke…?"

**22.**

Nia walked back to the village in the dying light of day, her heart roiling, her sister's voice in her head berating her. "I've probably done it, now," Nia murmured to herself, sadly. Rex hadn't seemed angry when she left him, but after being so damn confused by her – and honestly, who could blame him – would...he still look at her the same? Would they still be able to be in each other's company, without things being awkward? Damn it, why had she gone and kissed him? And damn it, why had it felt so good? Despite her sister's voice in her head, the memory of the kiss lingering on her lips bought a smile to her face.

"Nia, girl, are you alright? You look like you don't know if you want to laugh or cry."

Nia looked up, and her heart dropped into her stomach. She had wandered into the village, at a time when most of the farmers and citizens were in their houses, either having a late dinner or getting ready for bed, wandered close to a small fountain by the central square of the village, and who should be there but Corinne? Corinne, and Corinne alone, the exact situation Nia had been trying to avoid. Corinne, looking concerned, but also looking like she had finally cornered her prey. "Come here, girl, take a breather on this bench," Corinne said, patting the bench on which she sat, looking into the fountain. "What's happened?"

There was no running from it, no matter how much she wanted to. Nia had neither the presence of mind nor energy to think up of a plausible excuse to escape the situation. Sighing, she sat down next to Corinne, staring into the fountain. "Nothing's happened," she said quietly. "Nothing other than you've raised a stubborn idiot of a boy."

Corinne glanced at her sharply. "Did Rex do something…?"

"He did nothing other than be so damn beautiful I had to kiss him." Nia didn't know why she was being so open. She was so tired, so emotionally exhausted, she just needed someone to talk to. Someone who she wouldn't be embarrassed to see every day, to know just how badly she was mooning over Rex.

Corinne looked relieved, then surprised. "Oh. You mean, you hadn't done that already?"

Nia glanced at her. "What, you thought we had?"

Corinne chuckled dryly. "Nia, the way you and Rex look at each other sometimes, I thought I was going to have to give him a talk about being careful, and how much responsibility bringing a baby into the world could be."

Nia felt herself blushing furiously in the dark, thankful for the shadows hiding her face. She was quiet for a few moments. "Corinne, I don't deserve him."

She could feel the older woman considering her in the dark. Corinne, at the least, was taking her more seriously. It was her job, after all, Nia supposed. To make sure Rex didn't run off with any bad sorts. If Nia said she wasn't a good person, Corinne might just take her word for it. "What makes you say that, girl?" Corinne said, carefully.

_You can't tell her, and so you'll never convince her. You'll go on letting people think you're wonderful, while deep down you know what dirt you are. _

But Nia was tired. So tired, of having kept everything hidden. And so tired of people thinking she was a good person, when she knew she wasn't. So tired of feeling her heart lanced with guilt whenever Rex looked at her with those kind eyes. So, why not tell Corinne? She could tell Corinne, and then Corinne could let Rex down gently, let him know what a monster Nia was. Just rip off the bandage. She had not the courage to do it to Rex herself, but she could do him the courtesy of letting him know the truth secondhand. She couldn't bear to see his heart broken face to face, but she could stop this before it went on any further. And even if Rex never looked at her the same way again, she wouldn't have to have the guilt, and maybe, if she was lucky, she could still travel with him.

_No, wait, _the voice inside her protested. _Don't-_

But it was too late. The truth poured out of her like a flood. Everything. The fact that she was a blade. Trying, and failing, to heal her sister. Her father. The fact that she was a Flesh Eater. Joining Torna. The fact that she could have saved Vandham, but didn't. Corinne's eyes widened, at first, but soon she had drawn Nia into an embrace, Nia not even noticing that she had done so.

"...And Rex doesn't even know," she finished, a wretched smile crossing her face. "He trusts me so much, and I haven't even told him. Trusts me so much, and he doesn't even know what a sick...you can tell him for me, please? I know I'm awful, but I just can't take the guilt anymore, but I can't bear to do it myself-"

"Hush," Corinne admonished, her hand patting Nia's hair soothingly. "Girl, I didn't hear a bad person in that tale. I heard someone who had a hard life and did the best she could. Whatever you think you are, you aren't. Rex may be a stubborn hardhead, but he is right about one thing. You are wonderful."

Nia paused. She had spilled her entire story to Corinne. And the woman still didn't see what a loathsome, wretched thing she was.

Maybe….could she be wrong about herself?

_You know you aren't, _the voice inside her insisted, but it seemed weaker than usual. _You are vile. _

"Rex, ah, he told me you were sick," Nia said, suddenly, feeling a need to change the subject. "I can...probably help."

"That fool boy, running his mouth again," Corinne snapped, a steely glint appearing in her eyes, but Nia took her by the hand and led her to the edge of the forest, away from prying eyes. It felt strange, changing into her Flesh Eater form out in the open, especially in front of someone she had just met. But Corinne...she had such an innate kindness about her, and well, she knew everything already...Nia was still a bit shocked with herself, that she had been so open. Well, she had done it in the hopes that Corinne would break Rex's heart for her.

Corinne looked Nia up and down, after she had changed in a flash of light, raising an eyebrow at her Flesh Eater clothes, particularly at how much thigh and leg they revealed. "Oho," she chuckled, "I think Rex might be more happy to find out about this than you think."

Nia blushed yet again. "You mean...you aren't going to tell him?"

"If I thought you were a danger, or as awful as you seem to think you are, I'd tell him, girl. But no. That's up to you."

Nia was quiet for a few moments. Then she raised her hand, stretching it out toward Corinne. She would have to be quick about this. It wouldn't take as much energy as returning someone from death, like Niall, but it would still be detectable if she wasn't careful. And she still remembered Pandy's words, after she had healed Niall. It seemed Zeke's blade had a bit of a talent for detecting bursts of Flesh Eater energy.

She reached out through the ether, touching Corinne with her power. Sickness wasn't like a wound, it felt different, and each type of difference felt different from the last. Corinne's sickness felt like a tangled knot, running from her throat to her lungs. The Praetorium was right, this was a sickness that would be deadly in a few years time. But there was nothing that was beyond Nia to heal.

She poured energy into Corinne, and the knots began to loosen, as if the gentle lapping waves of water were slowly untangling them. A few moments, and what the Praetorium had declared impossible to heal was gone. As soon as it was, Nia changed back into her driver form. No need to remain suspicious out in the open longer than was needed.

"Was that it…?" Corinne asked, raising an eyebrow. "I sure don't feel much different. Then again, I hardly knew I was sick to begin with, aside from some fits."

"I'm starting to see where Rex gets some of his stubborn disregard for his health from," Nia muttered. "Yes, that was it. You _were _sick. It's gone now." She glanced up at the older woman. "I...look, I'll tell Rex some day, alright? But just don't tell him it was me that healed you until then…? I...it's still going to...Architect, his eyes, when he looks at me with that smile, I just can't...I need time to recover-"

"Don't you worry," Corinne laughed, her eyes twinkling. "I don't like worrying my Rex, but I'll tell him I took another visit to another healer or something if you need some time to clear your head. And look here, I wouldn't worry too much about things getting awkward between you and Rex. You know, when he was little, he had a crush on one of the neighbor girls, and she rejected him, and less than a week later they were playing together like nothing happened..."

The two walked away from the edge of the forest, deep in conversation with each other, laughing.

After a moment, the forest rustled. A shadow slipped out from its depths, stepping into the light.

It was Fan la Norne. She had gone to read in the forest, and fallen asleep beneath the trees, only to awaken in time to witness everything Nia had said and done with Corinne.

Holding her staff, she gazed serenely at the two figures, retreating back to the orphanage.

"How interesting," she murmured.

**Note:**

Hey, sorry for the late update, I was on vacation for the holiday

As always, please comment if you can


	23. Chapter 23

**23.**

Rex looked out the window of his bedroom, up into the night sky. There, beyond the towering mountains of the whirling cloud sea, those great pillars of fog lazily lapping at the sky, stirred by the movements of Leftheria's many titans, twinkled the blazing stars of Alrest's night sky. He found himself thinking yet again of the wreckage he had found beneath the Cloud Sea – the flags of nations long gone, carvings and statues that suggested that men and women had once traveled to those distant lights, in great bulky suits not unlike his salvager's suit, in ships that could fly farther and faster than any he had ever known. One statue that he had found beneath the Cloud Sea in particular had always stuck with him – long caked over with clinging sea life and coral, he had chipped away at it for hours to reveal a monumental pedestal, and a statue of two rough-looking men, wearing those odd suits, helmets tucked beneath their arms, beaming with pride as they pointed upwards. Ringed around the monument, in brass, were plaques of a language so long dead that even the name of it was lost forever. But accompanying it were a series of glyphs that clearly depicted the two men climbing into some massive ship, to travel into the night sky. Rex had sat, freezing, in the Cloud Sea, for hours after he had found this, contemplating, long enough for Gramps to curse him for making him worry once he finally surfaced. He had wished that he could have somehow risen this monument from the seabed, but it was not to be. It was doomed to lie there until the end of time, to be caked over once again, forgotten forever. Even if Rex went back to the exact same spot, it was unlikely he would ever find it again. Even what he had glimpsed, he had only been able to see because the ever-shifting seabed of the Cloud Sea had allowed him to.

But the image of those two men stuck with him. When he closed his eyes, he could still see every detail of the monument. It had...such an aura of optimism, that made it incredibly sad, in a way. Whoever had built it, ages and ages ago, had thought that this was their future. That was what the statue was, in the end. A monument to a forgotten future. It spoke of such ambition, such fierce confidence in their own abilities. And yet...whoever they had been, these people were now gone. Long, long gone. Whatever future they had dreamed of, Rex doubted it had been to see their culture sunken at the bottom of the Cloud Sea. What had happened to them…?

Though the weeks spent in Fonsett were a welcome reprieve, an opportunity to relax after the horror of Mor Ardain, Rex was slowly beginning to feel more and more anxious to move on. It wasn't that he was worried so much about taking up the village's precious few resources...Corinne had convinced him their presence was no trouble. It wasn't that he felt so comfortable here, that this life seemed so seductively idyllic to him, that he could see himself living here quite easily the rest of his days. He lifted a gloved finger to his lips, where the lingering memory of the fierce kiss Nia had given him lived on, and blushed furiously as her eyes filled his mind, the scent of her hair, her playful smile. Yes, life here was….very seductively idyllic.

It wasn't even that he had a mission to undertake, to the World Tree. Malos seemed content enough to linger here, for a moment. The Dark Aegis seemed to have an odd conception of time, which Rex supposed was appropriate enough. A few weeks, a month or so of delay, seemed not to bother him in the slightest. And why should it, when such time was but a small fraction of the life he had lived? "Life," Malos had said, when Rex had asked him whether he had felt like they had lingered too long, "Is mostly lingering, Rex. A few critical key moments, and a lot of lingering. What matters more is what you do in those key moments, not how much you spend lingering."

And it wasn't that the Praetor was awaiting him to fulfill his invitation, either. Fan had assured him that the Praetor did not mean for Rex to rush, and that indeed, he hoped that Rex would linger a while in the Praetorium as well. Although...it was as if he could feel, somewhere, out there, Amalthus' long gaze falling upon him. Rex knew precious little of politics – though, he thought ruefully, he had received a harsh education in them in Mor Ardain - but he knew enough of the world to know that the Praetor was a figure beyond politics. He thought back to the warning Cole had given him – that Amalthus was a man whose ambition and cleverness was peerless, who saw the world as though through dark glass – and to the admiration Fan clearly bore for him whenever she spoke of him. And...Pyra. The destroyer, the murderer of Vandham. She had been his blade, once. The only other being on Alrest who could speak to Rex as a fellow driver of an Aegis. Amalthus, legend out of time, ancient monarch of the Praetorium, who had – somehow, beyond all that was thought possible – climbed the World Tree alone. Amalthus…still seemed too big to contemplate. Too big to think of, to anticipate. It was like a step below being told you were going to meet the Architect himself. Although from what Malos said, that was….in the future as well. There was no use thinking of these sorts of things. He would have to take it as they came, and see what kind of man Amalthus was when he met him.

No...Rex could not put a finger on his slowly growing anxiety, could not pin down its cause. But it was almost like...the feeling he would get on a salvage that was going to go wrong. The feeling he had right before he dredged up Malos, as he traveled on Bana's ship. An indescribable, slowly mounting sense of dread.

Although...perhaps it was just all the things he had seen, particularly in Mor Ardain. But not just there. The field of dead men he had seen in Gormott, the fallen Ardainian and Urayan soldiers...the Ardainians in Gormott, evaporated in hellfire raining from the sky...Vandham's death, and how the Garfont mercenaries had torn themselves apart shortly after...the bloody machinations of Brionac in Mor Ardain, murdering hundreds, if not thousands of their own, even their own Emperor...all so these men, these...ghouls, that he had spoken to, could have the bloody war they wanted.

Rex had always thought that there was something wrong with the world. But this journey...it had taught him it was broken further than he had ever thought possible. There was a bright flame in him that saw the good in people, but everywhere he turned, it was death, death, and he found himself, so often, holding back tears, wanting to scream at the world, it doesn't have to be like this, it doesn't have to be like this, for the love of the Architect, please, it doesn't have to be like this, please listen, it's not too late, it doesn't have to be like this -

And the worst part was...Rex knew it was his responsibility. He was the Driver of the Aegis, regardless of how that title had been thrust upon him. Who was his company? Addam, who had saved the world, and Amalthus, who had established a kingdom who oversaw the administration of peace and the rescue of refugees worldwide. And as for Rex, what did he do? He...failed, over and over and over again. He failed to save Vandham. He failed to stop the bloody butchers of Brionac from taking over Mor Ardain. All this power in his hands, and he was always failing. How many people's blood was on his hands, all because he wasn't good enough?

Rex shook his head, looking at his shaking hands. He tried not to think like this. There was no use moping over his failures. But it had been getting to him more and more, sometimes. Part of him knew it wasn't….wasn't quite right, to think this way. Nia would surely tell him he was an idiot for thinking that way. Oh, how could she think she wasn't good enough for him…? He was the one who failed over and over again-

Rex gritted his teeth and shook his head vigorously. There he went again. He couldn't afford to descend into a pity party for himself. He couldn't fall apart, not when he was the Driver of the Aegis. Not when he was the one leading people on this expedition to the World Tree. No matter how undeserving he might be, no matter how much of a failure, no matter how much he might wonder how others could even stand the sight of him sometimes….he had to keep his head straight. That wasn't the right way to think. It...it wasn't real, that way he felt. He knew it wasn't. It couldn't be. It was something...dark, inside him, that talked that way. Something dark, fueled by all the violence and loss that he would kill himself to stop.

Something dark and growing.

**24.**

Malos stood in the early dawn of Fonsett, framed against the sun's early rays staining the whirling clouds of Leftheria orange and red, framed against a clifftop that rose a little ways above the village itself, one that the children would often go cliffdiving off of. His gaze drifted from the glorious sunrise to the village itself as the morning wore on, and the village slowly awoke into life. He watched as Nia, usually the first of the party up, stepped out of Corinne's home, stretching with a yawn, and idly paced around the yard before perching on a stone wall, removing a piece of wood from her pocket to whittle away at. Not long after, Poppi joined her, Nia's ears flattening as the robot, with what Malos could have sworn was a mocking smile, talked to her. What an odd piece of technology Poppi was. Then again, it must have been odd for humans when they first invented artificial intelligence that began displaying personality and capabilities beyond what they had first programmed it for. He had to say, people seemed to be taking it more in stride this time around. Perhaps because Alrest was such an eclectic mix of old and new technology, so much of it scavenged as it was from beneath the Cloud Sea from civilizations much more advanced. Perhaps people were already used to the idea of machine intelligence. Or perhaps nobody quite grasped what an advanced piece of work she really was.

It wasn't long before Rex joined them, idly strolling across the yard, chewing on an apple. Malos' steely gray eyes watched with interest as Nia blushed as he approached, and Rex rubbed the back of his head, clearly a little embarassed. Poppi was watching with interest too, her head swiveling back and forth between the two of them. They seemed a little awkward with each other for a bit. But it wasn't long before Rex said something that made Nia laugh, and soon the tension drained out of the conversation, and they were laughing and talking with each other as they normally were. Now, wasn't that interesting. Malos wondered what had happened between them that had led to that tension and awkwardness. His mind raced through the possibilities. Well, at least blades couldn't get pregnant. Could Flesh Eaters be an exception? He hadn't heard of any such thing, but it's not like Flesh Eaters were well documented. Would Nia suppressing her powers have any effect on that? This could possibly be a case study…

Malos shook his head. That was not really a conversation he wanted to have with Rex. Biology was not his usual line of interest, anyway. And again, he found himself with an odd feeling he could not quite understand. He was glad that, as much as Nia might defy him, as much as she might stick her nose in and try to interfere with Rex's training….he was glad that there was someone to care for Rex in such a way. A feeling of his own that Malos could not understand was not something he was used to. It was, he assumed, yet again a product of the broken and malfunctioning elements of his mind. It annoyed him so that he once again set about tearing through the elements of his mind. What was it? Which of these tangled connections, tangled and twisted like briars, was producing this feeling?

He was deep in his reverie when from behind him came a rustling in the grass. He summoned his blade to his hand in a burst of black flame, whirling around, only to be greeted with the empty clifftop. But there was no mistaking it, there had been a noise of movement behind him. "Who's there?" he snapped, hefting his blade in both hands. "I know someone is."

There was a moment of silence. And then, rising from his concealment in the dark grass, appeared Dromarch, sitting up, licking one of his paws, his tail flicking back and forth. "Not the easiest prey to stalk, you are," he mused.

Malos stared at the cat blade for a moment, then leaned his blade back against his shoulder, putting his other hand to his hip. "You should know better than to try to sneak up on me," he smirked, regarding the blade. Dromarch usually remained by Nia's side. Truth be told, Malos had thought of him almost as her pet, more than as another blade. What was he doing out here alone?

Dromarch regarded him with large, dark, unreadable eyes, and began prowling in circles around Malos. "Do you think so," he mused. "I found it easy enough to conceal myself last night."

Malos froze, remaining silent.

"My lady….I usually want to be there for her at night. She has...trouble sleeping, and my presence makes it easier for her to get her rest." Dromarch drew closer to Malos as her circled him, his tail flicking almost close enough to hit the Aegis. "But last night, she returned in such a good mood that she slept better than she has in ages. A perfect time, I thought, to do a little night hunting. And who should I find, while out on the prowl, but you. Alone." Dromarch paused, in both his circling and his speech. "With the core crystals of Roc, Aegaeon, and that other blade we found in Uraya."

The wind howled between the two of them, swaying the grass.

"What were you doing with them, Malos?" Dromarch asked, when it became clear the Aegis was going to remain silent.

Malos paused, his face unreadable, his eyes boring into the cat. "I was draining them of their energy and information to make repairs to myself," he said finally.

Dromarch began circling again. "So...you are a vampire. A leech. And does Rex know of this….? No, he would not, would he? He would never approve of you doing this to Roc. To Brighid's friend. To anyone, really. Unlike you to lie, Malos."

"I'm not lying," Malos said simply. "Rex has never asked-"

"As if omission is not a lie," Dromarch chuckled to himself. "Come now, Aegis. Aren't you all about being honest with yourself? Telling yourself the hard truth?"

"How would you know what I am about?"

Dromarch paused in his circling, pinning Malos with his large, dark eyes. "I have been watching you very, very closely, Malos. Did you think you could threaten my lady….threaten to expose her secrets…and that I would sit idly by? Could you really be so arrogant, or do you really not understand what it means to care…? Do you look at love, and think it is all happiness and light? No, fool. Love also means you will seek power over and vengeance against those who threaten those who you love. Oh, you have your power...I could never defeat the son of the Architect himself. But I have been watching very closely, Malos. Looking for a weakness." Dromarch bared his fangs. "It is how I am built."

Suddenly, Malos seemed more shadow than man. Though it was morning, the shadows lengthened, turned black as the void. "It is better for me to be at my full capacity, when facing Mythra, then for us to have a few more blades at our back," the Dark Aegis said quietly, his voice crawling out of the void where his face had been a moment before. "I do not take enough to permanently damage them. Only to delay their awakening. Would you like to explain to the legions of dead why that is a price not worth paying? To stand before the ocean of blood spilt by Mythra and say, no, there are some things that must not be done to prevent this? When the light goes out of your beloved lady's eyes, because I was not strong enough to fight, when everything you have ever known is undone, cast beneath the Cloud Sea, forever lost, because I could not defeat my sister, will you still say that such a measure should not have been taken? Do you think I do this for personal power? I have no interest in the capabailities of this form, other than that it does what needs to be done. Little blade, with power such as Father granted her, Mythra could evaporate your lady before you even have a chance to say goodbye. I do this so that it might be within my power to keep her alive, to keep all of us alive. And you presume to _threaten_ me?"

Dromarch's ears flattened against his head, and he bared his fangs, crouching, at the shadows spreading out from Malos like a stain. "If it is all as you say, why not tell Rex? But I know why. It's because Rex would gladly sacrifice himself, but never accept suffering for others. Not even the slightest bit. He would never let you do this." 

"And now you think you know Rex so well," Malos mused.

"Of course I do," Dromarch said quietly. "I have watched him as well. Of course I know the boy my lady has fallen for."

Slowly, the darkness drained out of Malos, the shadows retreated, the light of day returned. His face, swimming out of the shadows, was tired, worn down. "I...It really is all as I said. If I didn't have to do this, I would prefer it. But Rex would not understand, and I couldn't make him see. He'd think that there must be a way to do it without the sacrifice of others. He doesn't understand. It's easy, in a way, to sacrifice yourself. Sacrificing others is the truly hard choice. He would tell me that this could all be done without it."

"Is sacrificing others really a choice for you, Malos? Or is it a foregone conclusion?"

Malos flinched as if struck. The youthful face of Hugo, full of so much hope and life and determination, the laughing smile of Addam filled his head. Would he have stopped, even for a second, if he knew that what he did would lead to their deaths? Would he have stopped if they begged him to? Of course he wouldn't have. Because in the end, Addam _had _begged.

Dromarch sighed, looking away over the cliffs. "It is not that I don't accept your reasoning. And...as much as you have tormented my lady, holding her secret over her head, and through the pain you inflict on young Rex...I appreciate what you did in Uraya, saving her, when she ran away. But...I hope you know, it is not merely Rex she loves. She has an incredible capacity for compassion. She hides it, but she cannot hide it from me. She loves all those she travels with. Brighid, Morag, Tora, Poppi. She is warming up to Zeke and Pandoria. And she even loves you, in a way. But I have watched you, Malos. I have seen those cold eyes of yours weighing, calculating. Wondering who will need to die. I don't envy you the position. I...think that someone needs to do it. But I have watched you enough, I know you enough to know that when the time comes, you won't hesitate. No matter who it needs to be. And when the day comes when you make that choice, you are going to break her heart. And I want you to understand, it's not just because you will hurt others that she loves. It's because she'll never be able to look at you the same way again, either."

"Damn it," Malos snapped, shocked with himself to hear the raggedness in his voice, shocked to feel the anger and despair rising within him. _Addam had a wife. You robbed him of his future with her. Young Hugo never even lived long enough to love. In all the universe, in all the infinite expanse of time, this was their only chance to live, to be. And you ensured that the brief flicker of light they experienced in the infinite dark was one of pain, cut short. "_I don't want to have to do this. Any of it. This was….this was not what Father made me for, you know." _But it wasn't what he made Mythra for, either._

"Who is to say your Father made you for anything at all," Dromarch mused, still staring down at the Cloud Sea. "I have wondered about this, myself. Who is to say that you and Mythra are not on Alrest because he wanted you to learn what it was to be mortal?" He paused, swiveling his head to pierce Malos with his dark gaze. "Who is to say you and Mythra both are not failing him?"

A long moment of silence carried on between them.

"So what is it that you want," Malos said, finally. "You have a secret of mine. Fine. I still hold Nia's secret as well. Do you hope to turn Rex against me with this? I'll make sure he knows of Nia's secret, and all the bloody details. I can live with his contempt. You are right about me. If I have to drag him in chains to make him fulfill his vow, I will. I will drag him screaming. I don't want to do that. _But I absolutely will._"

"I want nothing from you, Malos," Dromarch replied, turning his head back towards the Cloud Sea. "I just want you to know, you think you hold a dagger above my lady's head with your knowledge of her secret. Well, now I hold one above yours."

"She doesn't know, does she?"

"No. She would never approve of me confronting you like this. She would never want someone to be put in danger on her behalf." Dromarch glanced back over his shoulder at the Aegis. "Why, Malos? Thinking of killing me? Of letting this little secret die with me?"

Malos took a step back, shocked. "What? No. What kind of monster do you take me for?"

"Why, the kind you are. The kind Mythra is. If you could convince yourself that the best way to achieve your mission was to kill me so that my knowledge of your secret died as well, I have not a doubt in my mind that is what you would endeavor to do." Dromarch stretched, yawned, and fixed Malos with one last stare. "Remember this, Aegis. I am watching, and I know you. I see the darkness in you that the others cannot. I see with the clarity of distance. Nothing you do will ever surprise me."

And with that, Dromarch melted into the tall grass, leaving Malos standing atop the cliff alone once more.

**25.**

It was with a chorus of protestations that Rex and the party announced that they were leaving from Fonsett, planning to take flight on Gramp's back to the Praetorium.

"C'mon Rex, d'you have to go?" A little boy with a dirty face cried, as Rex packed provisions into his backpack. Not far away, across the yard, Tora and Poppi were busy equipping Gramps with his latest invention: Some seats, ratcheted around the Titan's midsection, which Nia quietly promised herself to thank the little nopon for. Other children cried in agreement, clamoring around both Nia and Rex as they attempted to pack.

"Don't worry about me, Bill," Rex said, plucking the small boy from the ground and holding him up. "It's just a quick jaunt over to the Praetorium, then right over to the World Tree to see Elysium, and then I'll be back before you know it and you'll be asking me when I'm gonna leave and make you some more money again."

"Rex," the young boy said, rolling his eyes, "Elysium is a fairy tale for babies."

"Right, of course," Rex muttered, putting the boy down as the other children cried out in agreement. He shot a glare at Nia as she doubled over laughing. "Don't you encourage them!"

Corinne arrived, holding a basket beneath which steamed something delicious-smelling. "Now, children. You be nice to Rex and give him a proper goodbye. It's every young person's right to go chasing off after some fool dream in their youth."

"Gee, thanks, Auntie," Rex grumbled, taking the basket from her hand. But he was wearing a beaming smile. "Thanks for putting us up for so long. Are you sure you're going to be good on money…?"

"Oh...did your friend not tell you?" Corinne glanced over at Morag, who was busy tying down the straps on a rucksack. The Ardainian snapped to attention, and then uncharacteristically blushed. "Oh. I'm….sorry, ma'am, if you wanted to keep it quiet..."

"No...it's….alright," Morag said, quietly. She cleared her throat, then looked at Rex. "I...well, I am the sister of the Emperor, after all. Mor Ardain is a wealthy nation. I was given...quite a large purse when we stopped in Mor Ardain, to spend at my discretion during my mission. I….figured that some of Mor Ardain's wealth ought to be used for something other than tanks and bombs." _To do a little good in the world, before we burn it all down, _she thought ruefully to herself. She was a bit shocked that she had done it, herself. She had taken fiscal responsibility with the Empire's coffers very seriously, before, spending as little as she possibly could. Brionac had broken her old habits along with her faith in her country, apparently. She would say it was for a hearts and minds campaign. Although Corinne had made her understand very, very well that accepting the money did not mean she owed any loyalty to the "Bloody Empire." Morag wasn't sure, given the current state of things, that she would have had it otherwise.

"We...well. I won't say how much she gave. But we should be good for quite some time, Rex." Corinne smiled at him. "Don't you worry about us."

"I...ah….damn," Rex said, rubbing the back of his head, his face burning. "Morag...how much do I owe you?"

"Rex, don't be silly. This wasn't a payment to you, this was my discretionary spending as an agent of the Ardainian Empire. Such as it is. I am serious, now. If you go on assuming you owe me a single coin, I am going to be insulted."

Rex was quiet for a long moment. Then Morag gasped, as he dropped his pack and embraced her.

"Thank you," he growled fiercely.

Morag was on the line of admonishing him. But he looked up at her, with such a beaming smile of admiration and sincere thanks, those shining eyes of his hitting her like a truck. How long had this poor boy slaved away, from such a young age, to support his adopted family? Oh yes, Morag could see what Nia saw in him. "It's….quite alright," she said, awkwardly patting his back. "There. Let's just….let go now. Okay. There we go."

"Hell, she's not the only royalty enchanted with this place, you know," Zeke mused, strolling over, with Pandy riding on his shoulders for no reason at all. "Once I get over the little piddling detail of my banishment, some of the Tantalese coffers may flow here as well. Although I think that it will come with the condition that I get a summer home built here."

"Now, I don't know how I feel about that," muttered Corinne. "I don't want our little village becoming nothing but summer homes for vacationing royalty. What's next, Raqura going to lounge on the beach with her mercenary boytoys? Amalthus going to descend from the Praetorium to go tell the people on the nude beaches to cover up? I don't know."

"Oh, Amalthus doesn't care about nudity," murmured Fan la Norne, giving a small smile as she leaned on her staff. "Honestly, so many rumors about how stuffy the Praetorium is, but none of it is true. Why, one time, the Praetor-"

"Let's...let's just stop right there," Nia interrupted. "Whatever story you have that involves Amalthus and nudity, I don't think I want to hear it."

"I'm just saying, Leftheria's not the only nation that has beaches where-"

"I said stop!"

The children continued crowding around as the group packed up, until the time came when all preparations had been made. Everything was strapped down to Gramp's back. Nia leapt into one of the seats Tora had rigged onto the draconic Titan's back. It was ratcheted down pretty securely. And he had even come up with a neat little harness system to hold you into your seat. "Oh, bless you, Tora," she murmured beneath her breath, as she clipped the harness into place.

"Utterly unnecessary," Gramps grumbled, peering back at her. "I am a perfectly steady flier. What an insult."

"Now, Rex," Corinne said, laughing, as he gave her one final embrace. "I want you to take care of yourself. You listen to Gramps, now. And her," she said, pointing at Nia. "That girl has a fine head on her shoulders. You listen to her good sense."

"Why does everyone keep telling me that," Rex muttered.

"Because it's true," Nia replied, airily.

As the party climbed onto Gramp's back, buckling themselves in, Corinne motioned swiftly to Malos. The Dark Aegis raised an eyebrow at her, glancing back at the rest, who hadn't noticed her quiet beckoning, then stalked swiftly over to her. Corinne had not said much to him, during their visit. But he had often felt the weight of her stare, as she watched him and Rex train. And other times, too. She had been perfectly cordial with him, and asked after his history, but...never more than that. She disapproved, Malos could tell. She disapproved of this man who was making her boy into a soldier. But she would let Rex make his own choices.

Corinne drew Malos in close as he approached her, motioning downwards. "Hey, Aegis. You see this?"

Malos glanced down. In one of her hands was a wicked looking switchblade. His eyes widened.

"If you get my boy hurt, or, Architect forbid, killed," Corinne said sweetly, "I am gonna hunt you down, and guess where this is going."

"I get your point," Malos muttered.

"No, go on, guess."

"Goodbye, Corinne."

"It's going up your-"

"GOODBYE, Corinne."

**26.**

With a mighty beat of his wings, enough to snap the branches of nearby trees, and nearly knock Corinne over as she stood too close to wave goodbye - "I warned her!" muttered Gramps, as he took off – Gramps rose into the sky. Nia gripped the edges of her seat, white-knuckled, as he began a steep ascent, and the glorious fading light of day shining through the mountains of clouds filled her vision.

"Isn't that pretty," Rex shouted, breathless, as the wind tore past them.

"Yeah, real stunning," Nia muttered. She offered praise to whatever it was at the top of the World Tree when Gramps finally reached the top of these mountains of clouds and leveled off.

Truth be told, it was not a long journey to the Praetorium. The Indoline Titan's migratory path around the World Tree often saw it spending much time near Leftheria's borders. Its shadow had fallen across Leftheria a few times in Rex's life, as its massive, impossibly huge figure crested Leftheria's cloud mountains. And even from that distance, Rex could hear the long, mournful peals of the Praetorium's bells. But he had never been to the Praetorium itself, or seen it up close.

But it was not long before he had that opportunity. Darkness had barely settled, the moon rising up to bathe the Cloud Sea in an eerie light, when Gramps swerved around a cresting tuft of fog and Indoline suddenly loomed into view.

The Indoline Titan itself was draconic, like Gramps, though Gramps might as well have been a gnat compared to its size. Less than a gnat. Though Indoline itself was smaller than the massive, whale-like Uraya, the dragon still filled up Rex's entire vision, sleek crests, massive maw with sharp, curved fangs that could bite their way through an entire city.

But as impressive as the Titan was, it was the structure on top of it that truly took his breath away. Seeing a nation from a distance, it gave you some idea of its character. Urayan and Gormotti settlements, even their largest cities like Torigoth and Fonsa Myma, were tucked away into the natural landscape of their Titan. In Mor Ardain, their cities were black, glittering protrusions spewing smoke, rising in defiance of the harsh environment they found themselves in. But the Praetorium…

The Indoline Sanctum utterly dominated its Titan, rising, white and pyramidal, shining in the moonlight, and spreading out from around this massive palace, an entire city of white marble, its buildings not the cozy warren of Uraya, or the thrumming madness of Mor Ardain. Even from a distance, even from her streets, Indol promised order.

"Beautiful, isn't it," Fan murmured, from Rex's side. He glanced over at her, her hair streaming behind her in the wind, as she looked towards Indol with eyes shining. "It feels so good to be home."

"It….it hardly seems real," Rex replied. "How could anything so big ever be built…?"

"Over many centuries," Fan replied softly. "Indol was not always so. Oh, it was grand before, but it was after Amalthus assumed the title of Praetor that he set about building the city to the height of glory you see now. It took much work. The abilities of both humans and blades were used in its construction. A true testament to what we can achieve when we work together. Still…." Fan's face faltered, suddenly flashing with grief.

"What is it…?"

Fan sighed, gripping her staff, as the city drew closer and closer. "Amalthus….considers it a failure. He cooperated closely with the architects who designed the city. And yet it never seemed to capture what he wanted it to communicate."

"And….what was that?"

"He wanted it to be an Elysium on Alrest," Fan murmured, as Malos swung his head to give her a hard stare. "But it never did rise to his expectations. Perhaps nothing carved by the hands of man or blade ever could. How could mortals live up to the expectations of a man who had seen the Throne of Heaven itself?"

"How, indeed," muttered Malos, and Fan gave him a curious sidelong glance.

"An Elysium on Alrest," Rex murmured to himself, giving the city another appraising look. Whatever he had heard about Amalthus from others, that certainly seemed like a worthy enough endeavor. He wondered what it was that made it so that Amalthus would be perpetually dissatisfied with such beauty and glory.

You never really got used to it. As they drew close, the city was just as impressive intimately as it was from a distance. White cobbled streets, and smooth, curved marble in the Indoline style, though there was something about it that seemed...off, to Rex. Finally, as they drew close to the ports, he realized what it was. The way the stone was shaped….it was as if gleaming metal should hold that form, not necessarily stone. As if Amalthus had tried to reshape in marble what he had first seen in shining silver.

There was a welcoming party waiting for them as Gramps finally drew close to Goetuis port, the massive docking bay for the Indoline sanctum. Rex could not help but notice – as he couldn't help but notice ever since Mor Ardain – that while Indol was a peaceful nation, and claimed no side in the Urayan-Ardainian conflict, this port was large enough and well-equipped enough to dock the most massive of Ardainian battleships. And indeed, there were Indoline battleships docked at the port right now, two of them, rivaling the size of Mor Ardain's largest flagships. Indoline military design, much like Ardainian, completely concealed the Titans at the heart of the ship. But where Mor Ardain's ships were great glittering black fortresses, bristling with many smaller arms, the Indoline ships were like spiraling shells you might find at the beach, built around one large, massive gun that ran along the ship's spine.

The welcoming party was composed of two Indoline priests, their eyes hidden in the shadows of draped white robes, but occasionally catching the light of the moon and flashing suddenly in the darkness, and an attendant party of warrior-monks, entirely concealed in gleaming white armor and each holding a massive, blunt staff that flared at either end. The Indoline, much like the Gormotti and the Urayans, maintained some aspects of their animal ancestors. But it was much more prominent in them than the other races. Their skin shone in many with scales, a pale blue, and their mouths were full of small fangs, their ears long and pointed. Many traces of the draconic remained within them indeed. There were those who said that the reason Indol embraced strong philosophy and religion so much was because the Indoline had so much of the draconic rage and thirst for violence within them left, they needed the philosophy to be able to build a civilization, poured out into their great books that Rex had seen on occasion, humongous tomes that contained pages upon pages of musings about even the slightest of subjects, advisory and direction for even the smallest part of a person's life. But though they seemed intimidating, Rex had never experienced anything but courtesy from the rare Indoline who stepped foot out of the Praetorium, back in Goldmouth.

"Goddess," the priests intoned, with a sweeping bow, as Fan stepped down gracefully from Gramp's back. "It is so good to see you returned to us."

"And on a Titan of such gorgeous form," murmured one of them, reaching out to pat Gramps.

"Well, it is good to see I'm appreciated somewhere," Gramps mused as the party continued departing from his back.

"And it speaks! I...I..." Rex marveled as the traditional Indoline stoicism broke down before his eyes and the priest looked like nothing more than an excited child. "I...have heard of such things," she finally forced out, regaining her composure. "I...ah. I would like very much to speak with you if there is time. And we have….facilities, within the city, for the care and maintenance of Titans of your size, I could direct you towards..."

"Well now! After three crash landings in a row, this is a welcome change!" Gramps rumbled. "I don't suppose you're going to try to enlist me, are you?"

Fan laughed, like small bells ringing. "Enlist you, no. They might build a temple around you if you're not careful, though."

Morag, for her part, was watching the warrior-monks with interest. How still they remained, through everything. Mor Ardain had disciplined soldiers, but in Indol, she knew, a branch of their philosophy revolved around a martial tradition. What she had heard of the training sounded brutal – walking through fire, or being buried up to your neck in ice, without being allowed to express pain, entire weeks of marches with no sleep, being forced to survive in the elements with some form of meditation to control your body – but she knew the results were soldiers feared even by the Ardainian upper command. It did not help that Amalthus knew precisely how to use them. Every time the Praetor had committed forces throughout history – and it had not happened in her lifetime - it had been a rout of historical proportions.

"I like our boys more," Brighid murmured in her ear. "They've got more personality."

Morag gave her blade a wan smile. But it was hard for her to think of the youth of Mor Ardain without thinking how many of them would be marching to their deaths soon enough.

Nia, for her part, did her best not to look at the warrior-monks, as she set foot, with some trepidation, on Indol. It had been Indol, after all, who had sent soldiers pursuing her when she was on the run as a Flesh Eater, and she knew from personal experience the brutal, inhuman quality of her warriors. Their pursuit had been relentless, their resolve boundless. When she thought humans must, surely, collapse from exhaustion, they continued on, never stopping for rest in their pursuit of her, never once showing any weakness, their scouts never once showing even an ounce of hesitation to face a driver, a flesh eater, and her blade alone. Just seeing them, in their white armor and faceless white helmets, bought back horrifying memories of them stalking her, swimming out of the shadows when she thought they must be miles away, the moonlight glinting off their armor, her begging them to stop as they raised those massive staves to bring them crashing down upon her-

It had been Jin that had ended all that, that had destroyed the company that captured her before they could transport her back to Indol. She still remembered clinging to Jin's side, one of his arms sheltering her, as they stood in the freezing cold, watching the Indoline encampment burn to ashes, along with the corpses of all the soldiers in it. All the records, the documentation they had on her gone up in flame as well. And no other detachment had pursued her since then, so she had to assume that all records of her died along with those soldiers. After all, at a glance, she looked like any young Gormotti girl.

Still, it was somewhat nerve-wracking being near those same soldiers once more, though they showed her no more attention than anyone else. For once she was glad for Malos and his blasted capacity for destruction being nearby. If they tried anything funny, he'd probably melt the entire pier to slag.

Finally, they all departed, with the excited priest remaining behind at the docks to "see to" Gramps, babbling excitedly about where he might get his claws and fangs polished, and would he please spread out his wings, because she would so much like to see them and measure their span, and might he bless this water-

"You know, I am glad Gramps is getting the spa treatment this time, instead of crash landing or getting shot down," Rex mused, as Morag winced. "I gotta say, Indol's given me a better first impression than anywhere else so far."

The first thing they noticed, as they left the docks, was the heavy scent of incense permeating the city. And – like no city Rex had ever experienced so far – the almost supernatural tranquility and calm of its residents. True, it was night, but it was not that late. But here, no merchants cried out their wares, no smiths hammered metal, no factories spewed smoke in the background, nobody hurried anywhere. Even the occasional nopon they saw seemed much more quiet than they were anywhere else in the world. The Indoline themselves were not talkative – Rex understood their philosophy was big on stoicism and keeping your mouth shut unless you had something important to say – and when they did speak, they did so in hushed whispers to nearby friends, every conversation as private as possible. Though it was well-populated, the city seemed nearly as quiet and still as the stone it was made of.

Or, at least, most of the city was that way.

Fan, leading them to the Sanctum, where she said apartments were prepared for them, directed them to turn a corner, and they were suddenly confronted with a plaza filled with a massive, sprawling town of tents, its inhabitants such a stark contrast to the silent wealth of the city that Nia outright gasped in surprise. Members of every race were there, in pitiable condition, begging, moaning with sickness, weeping. Occasionally, an Indoline would drop a coin into a beggar's hands here or there, but more often they simply watched with those quiet, stoic eyes, their faces betraying no emotion.

"Refugees," Fan murmured apologetically, pity written across her features. From sinking Titans. And...from wars."

Morag felt shame coursing through her. She was no stranger to the depravity of war. But to be confronted with it at such soul-shattering magnitude, and to know so much of it was due to the actions of her country – the weeping children, the mothers and fathers staring with dead eyes at empty cradles where their babes had once slept, lost to hunger or sickness, the fields of them, the simple reality of pain and suffering emanating from the encampment...and to know that they were going to create so much more of this…

She stopped in her path, falling behind the group, shuddering as the icy claw of shame and dread seized her heart. She felt Brighid take her hand, her blade's natural heat coursing through her. "Brighid," Morag finally forced out, "What have we been doing all these years?" Oh Niall, she thought, poor Niall had seen this as well. No wonder the war had taken such a toll on him. No wonder he had been driven to sleeplessness and suffering to try and stop it. She had known, of course, that this was the consequence of war, before, but….

"Lady Morag," Brighid whispered, "You have...it was a difficult time in Mor Ardain. And even in Leftheria, you did not take much of an opportunity to rest. I saw you putting yourself through your drills every morning. Perhaps during our time here, you should..."

"Rest…? Brighid, I...am confronted with the refuse of my nation's sins, and you think I deserve rest…?"

"Lady Morag," Brighid began again, then sighed as Morag steeled herself. "Let us walk around. We have no idea how many of these people might...you are in _uniform_..."

"No," Morag said, resolutely. "No, I won't run from this." She strode forward.

"Is there not room enough for them in the city itself?" Rex was asking Fan, as he stared in horror over the tent city.

"There was, but...our facilities have been overwhelmed," Fan replied sadly. "It is all we can do to stop them from starving or dying of plague." She glanced over at Morag as she joined them, and then her eyes widened. "Oh. Oh dear. We do not often have Ardainian visitors. Perhaps it is best if we do not go this way-"

"YOU ARDAINIAN BITCH!" came a cry from the crowd, and suddenly the camp was abuzz murmurs and shots of "Ardainian?" A woman lurched forward, the source of the cry, a Gormotti with half her hair falling out, lunging for Morag. "All my boys, all of them!" she slurred drunkenly, tears carving furrows in her dirty face. "You couldn't settle for just one, you had to take them all from me, take them _all, _Oh Architect, they're all gone..." she choked back a sob, and then her face contorted with fury and she lunged for Morag's throat.

Suddenly, a hundred things happened all at once. Warrior-monks in gleaming white armor flooded the plaza, before the crowd even had a chance to whip itself into a frenzy, shoving refugees stirring from their stupor back into their filthy tents. And with silent, deadly quickness, one of the Warrior-monks that had been attending Fan peeled away from her, and with one swift, broad stroke, bought his stave slamming into the Gormotti woman's arm, where it snapped like a twig. As she fell to the ground, writhing, the monk raised his staff and intoned, "Sentence for assault of a visiting dignitary is death," and sent the heavy flanged end of his staff hurtling towards the woman's head.

With a strangled cry, Morag leapt forward, grabbing the monk's staff to slow it. Where it was not gripped, the shaft was lined with small studs, and such was the force with which he swung it that these tore through Morag's gloves and carved into her hands. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as the pain roared through her arms, and concentrated all her will on squeezing her grip onto the staff.

It stopped a fraction of an inch from the woman's face, Morag's blood running down the weapon as she held onto it with all her might. "No," she finally managed to breathe, her breath ragged, as other monks approached to drag away the woman, "No, don't...don't kill her on my behalf. I will not allow it."

"Morag," Brighid cried, leaping forward, shoving her way past Malos, who had barely had time to draw his sword. "What...oh Architect, your hands-"

"Out of the way," Nia snapped finally, as the group finally recovered from the shock of this sudden turn of events. "I swear, it's like you lot can't enter a single country without causing a scene."

Rex gaped at the violence that was Morag's hands. "I...uh...well, we didn't do too bad in Leftheria..."

"Rex," Nia sighed, "Your home is lovely, but really, it barely qualifies as a country."

Rex frowned, as if he were about to protest, then shrugged. "You, ah, kinda got me there."

"You can let go of that now," Nia said to Morag, taking her hands in her own.

"No...I can't."

"Morag," Fan said, gently, "I...this warrior will not do anything you do not wish him to. I promise."

"You have my obedience," the warrior-monk said simply, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"No, I mean...I can't feel them. My hands."

Nia examined the staff, the sharp metal studs lining it, then hissed. "Vicious thing," she sighed. "Alright. This is gonna hurt."

Morag bit her lip, shaking, as Nia pried her ruined fingers from the warrior's staff. Fan, to her surprise, joined her in examining Morag's hands, though perhaps it should not be so surprising, as she was a healer as well. "Nasty wound," Fan said, her calm demeanor not at all ruffled by the violence. Nia missed the odd, appraising look she was giving her. "I'd say even with healing it's going to take weeks to recover..."

"Oh, nah. Watch this." Nia directed her healing into Morag's hands. Even without her flesh eater abilities, the knowledge of healing she had simply because of them far exceeded what normal blades could manage. It was a matter of moments before the flesh on Morag's hands had knitted itself over, the bones mending and aligning back into place. "I can't go healing those gloves now," she said, once she was done, and Morag was holding her hands up to examine the healed wounds.

"Quite astounding," Fan said quietly. "You'll be the next Goddess, if you're not careful."

"I don't….so they would have killed her, just like that?" Rex asked, glancing over at Zeke.

Zeke and Pandoria both shifted uncomfortably on their feet. "Yes," Zeke said, finally, utterly serious for once. "Protection of foreign dignitaries is a Holy Decree from Amalthus himself. But even besides that, crime is….simply not tolerated in Indol. It's rare that you see it, but even some forms of theft can carry the death sentence here. You can go to a temple and request what you need, anything at all, from food to shelter to even a loan. But the other half of that is that crime gets you swift and brutal punishment. Maybe it works in good times….but you can see here that the temples are clearly running out of charity to give. Hunger and death for theft can be a brutal combination."

"So why does he bring them here?" Malos asked, quietly. He looked up from the tent city, glancing over at Pandy and Zeke. "Why does Amalthus bring these people here, knowing he does not have the resources for them, knowing it puts them in that kind of situation?"

"They...don't have anywhere else to go," Zeke replied. But a look of puzzled concern crossed his face as well.

Morag, meanwhile, had crouched down, resting on her heels, to look at the Gormotti woman in the street that had lunged for her. The hate on her face was so utter and complete, but, Morag supposed, how could she do anything else but hate?

"Your boy's names," Morag murmured. "What were they?"

The woman's eyes darted around, glancing at the monks still surrounding her. "They're already gone. You can't do anything else to them."

"I don't want to do anything to them," Morag replied softly. "I just want to know their names."

The woman licked her lips. "Scott," she said suddenly, spitting their names out as if they were accusations hurled at Morag. "Ryan. Henry."

Morag regarded her for a moment, then reached into her coat and pulled out a heavy sack of coins, pressing it into the woman's hands. The Gormotti's eyes widened as she opened the bag, and saw enough glinting gold and titanium to buy her a new life. Morag leaned closer to the woman, close enough so that what she said could not be heard by anyone, not even Brighid. "I will remember the names of your boys," she whispered, "Until the day I die. The guilt of it will never leave me."

The woman stared at her with utter contempt. "What do I care?" she hissed. "Will your bloody guilt bring them back? Will it give me back all the time I should have had with them? Will it give me the grandchildren I should have seen someday?"

"No," Morag replied quietly.

The woman drew her in close, suddenly, as the warriors around her raised their staves. Morag held up a hand to prevent them from moving in. The Gormotti's breath reeked of alcohol, but her eyes stabbed into Morag's with sudden sharp clarity. "You think that guilt is a curse, Ardainian?" she whispered furiously. "You think I would be satisfied with that and some coin? The true curse is living every day of the rest of your life without the ones you love, knowing every single moment could have had them in it. I swear by blood and bone, if we lived in a just world, that's the pain you'd feel."

Morag got to her feet as the woman scrambled backwards, holding the bag of coin to her chest, glancing fearfully at the monks, and then ran past them, towards the docks. Brighid was soon by her side, radiating concern. "What did she say to you?"

"Nothing I didn't need to hear," Morag replied quietly.

And shortly after, the group continued onward, towards the Indoline Sanctum, leaving behind the suffering and sickness of the refugee camp.

**27.**

Praetor Amalthus sat behind the desk in his private quarters. Well, one of his many different private quarters. It was this room that he usually thought of as his office, where he'd bring official dignitaries that he wanted to speak to one on one. Though 'office' was a poor descriptor for the room. It was easily larger, by itself, than most houses, with vaunted, buttressed walls, glowing with candlelight. And his desk, too, was massive, marble inlaid with the golden seal of the Praetorium.

On his desk Amalthus was slowly stacking a series of oddly-shaped crystals. It was a popular game within Indol, the objective being to stack the crystals so that they balanced in such a way as to build the largest structure of them possible without them collapsing. Amalthus was quite the expert at the game, and had a set larger than any in Indol – covering his desk already was a broad, towering structure, nearly as tall as he was at some parts. He studied what he currently had, carefully, then pulled open a drawer full of more of the oddly knobbed crystals. He selected one, setting it into careful place with a small click, then nodded, satisfied.

"I thought I might find you here."

The Praetor's gaze flicked upward, sharply, towards the entrance to his office, the two humongous, gilded doors at the end of the room. Fan la Norne had slipped in quietly. Her eyebrows raised in surprise to see the humongous structure on his desk, her mouth popping open in a small 'o' of surprise, and she very, very gently closed the door behind her. He rose from his desk, delicately as well, and crossed the room to greet her. "Fan. It's good to see you. I was beginning to wonder if you'd decided to spend the rest of your life on those Leftherian beaches."

Fan put her hands on her hips, shooting Amalthus a skeptical look. "You aren't distracting me. We've talked about this. You need your sleep."

Amalthus sighed. "Yes. I know. For centuries, you have told me this."

"But it seems worse lately," Fan said quietly, her face breaking out into a broad grin nevertheless as he approached. She threw her arms wide and embraced him. Amalthus returned her hug as distantly as he always did, briefly, before disengaging her. Amalthus' embraces were always like that, and it always hurt Fan a little every time. But she had gotten used to it over the years.

"Yes. Well, lots of important work," Amalthus murmured.

Fan glanced over at the structure on his desk and chuckled. "Oh. Yes. That certainly seems important."

"I've only placed about five pieces tonight," the Praetor protested. His small smile vanished, and his eyes grew hard. Fan knew that look. Amalthus was ready to speak business. "Now. I assume that if you're here, that means our guests are as well." He gestured to two small chairs sitting away from the desk, a smaller table with a bowl of fruit laying between them. His robes billowed around him as he sat, with a sigh, in one of them. Fan took up the other seat, laying her staff across her legs.

"Yes. I presume you received my letters about where Zeke and Pandy found them."

"Mor Ardain, of all places," Amalthus murmured. "And right in the middle of all the recent...unpleasantness."

"Yes," Fan replied quietly. And then suddenly, her voice cracking, "Amalthus, is there going to be a war?"

"There is already a war."

"But...you know what I mean. Is it going to get worse?"

Amalthus was quiet for a long, long moment, before he lifted his gaze to meet hers. "Yes," he said simply. "Despite all my best efforts. A war such as the world has not seen in centuries. Many, many will die."

Fan tried to put on a brave face for him. She knew he had tried so hard to stop this. But she couldn't stop the tears from flowing down her face. "I'm sorry," she said miserably. "I...it's just so bad in Mor Ardain…."

"Brionac are as vicious a party as has ever existed in history," Amalthus replied, tired. "I wish there was some miracle I could perform. But we can discuss this some other time. What can you tell me about the Driver of the Aegis and his companions?"

"Oh! All of them quite interesting," Fan said, wiping her tears away with a sleeve and brightening up a bit. "Malos is….he is as I remember him in the brief flashes of my memory. Rex himself is quite young-"

Amalthus snorted. "I had heard."

"He seems….oh, this will sound silly. He seems pure."

Amalthus raised an eyebrow. "Coming from you, that must mean he is very pure indeed."

"Oh, I am not all that pure," Fan replied slyly. "One of his companions is a nopon and his artificial blade-"

Amalthus' gaze hardened enough to shatter stone. "Artificial blade? My spies had told me that was a Brionac project ran through Bana. I thought no one else had the technology."

"No, that's the thing. Of all things, this nopon is actually the son of the nopon Bana had running the artificial blade project. What a strange coincidence, don't you think?"

Amalthus softened his gaze once more, and relaxed, settling back into his chair. "Perhaps not as much of a coincidence as you might assume. Fate has a funny way of weaving people into these knots. Who else does he have with him?"

"Hmm. Perhaps you are correct. Because one of his other companions is Morag Ladair. She was tracking him, but after Mor Ardain, Niall actually set her onward with him to accompany him on his journey."

"Pinning his hopes on Elysium? Unlike Niall. Or does he mean to spare his sister what he considers an impending disaster…?"

"And one more very, very interesting companion. A young Gormotti driver named Nia and her blade."

Amalthus waved his hand idly. "Interesting…? That name means nothing to me…." But then he furrowed his brow. His mind raced, remembering some of the more recent spy reports he had about Torna. About one of their more recent members spotted with them on some missions.

"She's actually a Flesh Eater."

There was a a long moment of silence as Amalthus contemplated this. "And she's within the city?" he said quietly. "Not under lock and key?" 

"Her powers run more in the direction of healing. The guards have been informed of the situation and are keeping close eye on their apartments. I thought it best to leave it up to you before seizing one of the driver's companions." Fan paused. "Especially given that she's fallen for Rex. And he for her. Though he does not know that she's a Flesh Eater."

"I see," Amalthus said, mostly to himself. Then he glanced up once more, nodding to his blade. "It was the right decision. Thank you, Fan. Go get some rest yourself. I must give this some thought before meeting with them tomorrow."

Fan gathered herself up, rising, striding toward the door, her staff knocking against the hard floor as she walked out. Before she closed the door behind her, she turned toward Amalthus one last time. "Don't stay up too late," she chided gently.

And then she was gone.

Amalthus sat within his chair, musing to himself for some time. Presently, he rose, striding back to his desk. He examined the humongous structure he had built with a critical eye. He reached out and plucked out one key piece. The structure shuddered, wobbled, and then, with an inevitable finality, collapsed upon itself in a chain reaction that left not one crystal balanced upon the other, sending pieces scattering across his desk and the floor with a tinkling clatter.

Amalthus watched it fall with a small, satisfied smile.

**Note:**

Hello. I am returning to continue this fic after a long absence. A number of things caused me to stop writing, from personal life, to the worry that I was burning myself out with the breakneck pace at which I was updating. This fic is not even at the halfway point and it is longer than many books, and it's not that unusual for writers to take breaks of some extended length during writing as well. I do plan on finishing it.

Part of the reason why I stopped was because I was uncertain of how to approach Amalthus. A big theme of the game is that drivers shape their blades, but I think that also cuts both ways. A blade should have an impact on their driver as well. And after this act, is when the biggest divergences from the game begin to happen, and they're going to be dominated by Amalthus, so I needed to be completely satisfied and certain with how I was going to approach him before I began again.

Another thing that stopped me for a while is, well, I won't give things away. But the end of this act is going to be very, very dark. There's perhaps 1-2 more chapters before the end of this act.

So here is your warning now. It isn't going to be dark in any intentionally edgy for the sake of edgy sense – at least I don't think so. But it was dark enough for me to shy away from writing it at a time when I was depressed.

As always, if anyone is still around who is paying attention to this, comments are appreciated.


	24. Chapter 24

**27.**

"So Malos, what d'you think? It remind you of Elysium?"

Malos stepped back from the window of the common room of the Praetor's guest apartments, where he was looking down at the moonlight glimmering softly off the rooftops of the city below. The apartments were spacious, carved of soft white stone, with a common room to which all individual rooms were connected in a ring – enough of them that two still lay empty, even with everyone claiming their own room – except for Zeke and Pandy, who in addition to still accompanying them, shared a bedroom. Unlike Mor Ardain, however, men's and women's quarters were not separated. Nia and Dromarch were currently lounging on one of the common room's large, luxurious couches. Morag had changed out of her Ardainian officer's uniform, at Brighid's urging, wearing instead a white collared shirt and a pair of flaring black slacks, her hair down, reaching to her mid-back. She had been quiet, since her encounter with the refugee, and stood currently examining one of the paintings decorating the wall of the apartment, while Brighid lingered near her and murmured quiet words to her. Tora and Zeke took up two chairs around a small table, Zeke puzzling over a game board between the two of them while Tora chewed lazily on a fruit-filled pastry, while Poppi, looking almost bored, was playing with Pandy's tail while she wasn't looking, poking at the lightbulb at the end of it, raising a curious eyebrow when it lit up as she sent a small shock of electricity into it from the end of her finger.

"No," Malos replied dryly. "I mean, you saw Elysium in my mind, Rex. It was a lot more green than this. I think this is what he wants Elysium to be, not what it actually is." He shrugged. "Or….who knows. Maybe he saw a part of Elysium even I didn't know about."

"Still, you gotta admit it's impressive." Rex was perched on one of the counters separating a small kitchen area, swinging his legs idly. His eyes shone with something like admiration. "Amalthus...he climbs the World Tree all on his own, he's the Driver of an Aegis, afterwards he builds this city, he helps all those people…I dunno. Gotta be one hell of a man to do all that, I think."

"I don't know that he's someone you want to be admiring," Malos replied. Then he glanced back out the window, looking over the city once more. "Though...it is strange to think that he carried me back down all the way from the top of the World Tree all alone. Well, at least this." He reached up with one gauntleted claw to tap the dark purple crystal in his chest. "Not that I was...awake at the time."

"Why do you say that?"

Malos glanced up. Morag was looking at him from across the room, dark circles beneath her eyes. "He was...around, during the Aegis war, wasn't he? Do you...remember anything about him from that time?"

Malos was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "Not really. Like I said, I wasn't awake when he carried me down from the World Tree, and I never met him in person, only saw him from a distance. Addam was the one who talked with him. But...well...back then, there was this Titan-nation called Coeia. Indol and Coeia had...a long history of warfare between the two of them. And Amalthus, he wasn't even Praetor at the time, one day comes to Coeia, at a time when the two of them aren't even at war. And the next day, Coeia is sunk, blown to hell, beneath the Cloud Sea. He said that Mythra escaped his control, and blew it up herself...and, well...he did give me to Addam, later, to stop her. But that was what kicked off the Aegis War. And I always wondered if he had ordered Mythra to blow up Coeia. If he had given her her first taste of destruction."

Morag raised a puzzled eyebrow at this. "I...that's not how our history books tell it. I had always learned that Coeia had initiated conflict several months before Amalthus had went there with the Aegis..."

Malos snorted. "Yeah. I noticed. I mean...I wasn't awake for the beginning of the war either. But that version of events seemed to be pretty common knowledge at the time. Hey, it could have been wrong. But on the other hand, it's hard to keep track of who has their fingers in your history books over the course of five hundred years."

"I don't get it though," Nia spoke up, yawning a bit as she lounged back against Dromarch's soft fur. "If Amalthus was the one who bought Mythra down, who kicked off the whole Aegis War, weren't there a bunch of people after his head? Seems so odd that he caused all that trouble, and even after all that, he ended up becoming Praetor."

"He is notoriously charismatic and a legendary negotiator," Morag mused. "But I always wondered how he pulled that one off, myself."

Malos shrugged yet again. "You're asking me things that I don't know much about. Who knows how Indoline politics works? And he caused a problem, but also offered a solution, by giving me to Addam. But yeah, there were people who wanted him dead. Not as many as you might think, though." He gave a sharp smile. "You want to know my personal theory? It was fear. Sure, he said Mythra was out of his control, and sure, he did his part to stop her. But he was still her Driver. Maybe people thought if they went after him, he'd still be able to order Mythra to evaporate them."

"What about you, Zeke, Pandy? I mean….you work for the guy. I'm a little nervous about meeting him." Rex grinned sheepishly as he leapt down from the counter. "I'm a salvager, I'm not all that used to meeting royalty."

"You didn't seem so bashful meeting my brother." Morag crossed her arms, a faint smile lighting up her face.

Rex waved a finger at her. "You sprang that one on us, remember? I hardly had time to be nervous. Although I guess...you're technically royalty."

"So's Zeke."

"And I'm technically nobility," Nia teased.

"Hold on a second," Rex said, consternation suddenly crossing his face. "Tora, are you and I the only ones here who aren't bluebloods? Oh, don't tell me you're some nopon prince too."

Tora waved one of his wings idly as he leaned forward to make a move on the board between him and Zeke, causing Zeke to frown in thought. "Rex not be silly. Nopon not have royalty. What crude governmental system. Actually pay your own money for _other _people to have palaces? Nonsense. Royalty useless, useless. Ah, present company excluded, of course," he said, offering a nervous fanged grin to Morag and Zeke.

"Yeah! Let's hear it for the working man," Rex grinned, putting his hands to his hips. "So Zeke, what do you say? What do you think of Amalthus?"

Zeke shifted, reaching out with one well-muscled arm to make a move on the board. Then he sat back in his chair, sighing, and looked down, lost in thought for a moment. "He's….a very depressed man, I think," he said after a moment, not looking up. "Don't get me wrong, I….let's just say, I owe him a big one. But...who knows. Maybe it's just the consequence of living through all he's lived through. All the centuries of war, watching Titans disappear...but it's like he doesn't see the good things that happen. Or any of the good in people." Finally he looked up, shrugging, with a small grin. "You'll see soon enough, chum."

Slowly, as the night wore on, more and more of the party retired to their rooms. Nia yawned again, settling her shoulders into the rumbling purr and warmth of Dromarch's side, listening to the dwindling buzz of conversation as she closed her eyes, just shutting them for a moment-

It was hours later that she woke, sunk deep into Dromarch's thick coat. She grumbled to herself as she sat up, yawning, and then stretched until she shook. She hadn't meant to fall asleep on the couch. Or in her jumpsuit. With her boots still on.

Standing up, she glanced around the common room. Perhaps it was part of the strange calm of the Praetorium, but the quiet of it all seemed almost eerie, with the moonlight streaming in through the window and washing everything in a pale glow. The window-

Nia tsked irritably to herself. There by the window, slumped over a ledge, almost falling off a stool he had pulled up to it, was Rex.

Annoyed as she was when she approached him, she couldn't help but smile a bit to herself. She had been worried that what had happened in Leftheria might make things awkward between them. But Rex...had a way of making the things that she worried about seem like not such a big deal after all. She observed his snoring, peaceful face for a moment, smiling softly to herself. Then she reached out and gave him a sharp poke in the side.

"Ow! Wh-who's there? I'm up!" Rex said, sitting bolt upright, his eyes snapping open.

"You sleep like that, you're gonna get a crick in your back," Nia scolded gently. "You should go to your bed."

"Ah...what? Ah, I wasn't sleeping. Just resting my eyes." Rex yawned, stretching. "That's all."

"Resting his eyes, he says. You normally snore when you're just resting your eyes?"

Rex grinned sheepishly in response. "Ah. You got me."

"C'mon. You really think the Praetorium's so pretty you fall asleep watching it? Get your arse to bed."

"I wasn't looking at the city, really. Though it is very pretty. I was…" Rex's eyes drifted back out the window. "Oh look, they're still there."

Nia followed Rex's gaze, out over the softly glowing rooftops of the city spreading out below them. From here, they had a clear view of the plaza where the refugee tent city had settled, a few small campfires staining the white stone of the plaza with soot. There, by the light of the moon, clearly visible, were the white-robed figures of Indoline priests, moving among the refugees. They carried steaming pots, ladling out some sort of stew into bowls clutched in the hands of the tormented and broken.

"They must have been at it for hours now," Rex murmured quietly. "I saw them, walking out of their temples. Visiting all the restaurants. Gathering up as much food as they could. And then going to hand it out to all the refugees." He gave a small smile, but there was a touch of sadness to it, a darkness haunting his eyes. "I have to say…if I could do even half as much good as Amalthus is doing here, I think I could die happy."

"What," Nia responded softly. "Is funding an orphanage not enough for you?"

"Oh, that's different. They raised me, I owe them, after all. It's just...I keep thinking, Amalthus is a Driver of the Aegis, and look at all he's managed to do. And so am I, but what have I done…? Not much, it seems. I haven't even been able to properly fight with Malos yet. People...keep on getting hurt. The bad guys keep on winning." Rex closed his eyes, remembering Vandham's defiant last stand against Mythra, remembering the light of madness in the eyes of the Brionac officers once they had Niall where they wanted him.

Suddenly, Nia's hand wormed its way into his. He glanced at her, her eyes reflecting the light of the moon as she looked down at him. "Rex," she said softly, "None of that is your fault, you stubborn dunce."

He laughed. "Yeah. Sure. I know that. It's not my fault the world's got so much wrong with it. But...isn't it my responsibility to fix it? I'm the Driver of the Aegis, right? Even if I can't do it all alone, I...I owe it to people to do something with that. Don't I? But I never seem to be able to." His gaze drifted back out towards the refugees. "How many more of those people are there going to be, because I couldn't..."

"Rex, did you think you were going to be able to walk into Mor Ardain and stop them doing what they've done for generations, now? That isn't your damn responsi-" Nia sighed, and shook her head, as Rex shot her a pained glance, doing her best to quell her rising ire. It was seeing him take all the weight of this onto himself that was so infuriating. "...besides. You have helped people. In Fonsa Myma, you helped rescue Iona. In Mor Ardain, you rescued Tora, and his da', and Niall. I mean sure, Amalthus helps all those refugees, but he's had five centuries to build up to that, yeah? And….and you've helped me."

Rex looked at her with surprise. "Me? Help you? You're the one who's always healing me. You're the one who's helped _me."_

"They aren't mutually exclusive or anything," Nia snapped, her cheeks burning. "Of course you've helped me. Use your head. If it weren't for you, I'd be with Torna with...whatever destructive insanity they're on about. But it's not just that, you know. You've been the only real...friend I've had, besides Dromarch, in a long time...and...I'm just happier, traveling with you."

Rex stared at her for a moment, thoughtful, as if contemplating her words. Then he threw his hands up in frustration. "Alright, look, is this about the kiss?"

"Huh?" Nia could suddenly feel her blush in the tips of her ears.

"Because...I know we have kinda been avoiding the subject. But...I admit I am a bit confused. I asked Zeke about it, and he told me I have to look for all sorts of 'signals' and whatnot from you, but that seems like all sorts of….well frankly, tiresome bullshit, you know? But now I wonder if you're sending signals, or you feel like you need to, and...I dunno, I like being able to just talk to you and all without having to wonder about all that, and..."

Suddenly, Nia laughed. There had been a sort of tension between them, though Rex, as always, had been good at playing it down. But with this outburst of confused sincerity, awkward as it was, she felt the rest of the tension draining away. It warmed her heart to know Rex would always be open about this sort of thing. "No, no, signals...it's all tiresome bullshit to me too. Look...I mean, I'm...sorry about the kiss and all that..."

Rex held up his hands. "Whoa now. Don't get the wrong idea, the kiss was great and all. You're a good kisser. I'm just-"

"You aren't so bad yourself. Ah...I mean...I'm sorry for any...I mean it's only reasonable that you're confused." She laughed lightly. "I….look, we can talk about it at some point, just...trust me, alright? I'm not gonna try to give you signals or anything, we can talk about it without all that nonsense. I..." Rex squeezed her hand, and Nia cursed herself in her head. Truth be told, she would like to kiss him again right now. But she couldn't be certain that she wouldn't find herself unwittingly forming an ether bond with him, raising all sorts of questions. "I promise. You don't need to go listening to that shellhead Zeke."

"Alright, alright. I trust you." Rex smiled at her, and Nia suddenly felt shame stabbing through her heart. All that trust, and he didn't know she was a flesh eater. That was the truth of it, right there. She could trust him, but he couldn't trust her. "Shellhead though. That's a bit of an odd one."

"It's….you know, because of his pet turtle." When Rex raised an eyebrow at her, she continued. "You...you know. Turters. The turtle he and Pandy carry around."

Rex shrugged, then got up from his seat by the window, stretching. "I suppose I should try to get some proper sleep before tomorrow."

"Rex, please tell me you've seen Turters. I...I can't be the only one who knows about this."

But Rex was yawning, waving his arms. "G'night, Nia."

Nia watched him go stumbling sleepily off to his room. Her hand went to her flesh eater core, concealed beneath her suit, clutching at it tightly, as all the things she might say to him raced through her head. "One day," she murmured to herself. "One day."

**28.**

It was closer to noon than they expected when Fan la Norne came to gather them up to meet Amalthus. "He had planned on meeting you this morning," she explained apologetically. "But he had to shuffle around his schedule to see off some...visiting dignitaries that decided to leave suddenly." Zeke and Pandy saw them off, waving them goodbye. They were not to accompany them – Amalthus did just want to meet the Driver and his party, after all – and Malos muttered under his breath that they were probably looking forward to having the apartments to themselves.

The apartments were part of a series of buildings ringing a humongous, broad plaza, decorated with fountains and pillars of smooth white stone, leading to the Praetor's sanctum, which towered over it, casting a broad shadow. The plaza was bustling with much more activity than they had seen in it last night, much more, in fact, than much of the rest of the city. Indoline priests walked calmly among crowds of petitioners from every nation, all of them come to plead the Praetorium for help, whether it be healing, protection, or food.

It was a slow journey across the plaza. People would often cry out to Fan la Norne when they saw her, and she would stop every time, offering soothing words of comfort to people who had lost their homes, children who had lost their parents, or worse, parents who had lost their children. Just her serene presence seemed to soothe people, the suffering who clutched at her robes. Although, Malos noted, it did take its toll on her. She kept her face serene, comforting most of the time. But after the lost children, after the bereaved parents left her, sometimes, she trembled, leaning heavily on her staff.

But finally they found themselves climbing the humongous staircase of marble leading up to the entrance to the Sanctum. They passed inside, to be greeted by a long corridor of white stone, ceilings that nearly disappeared from view, and almost perfect silence. Although the stone hallway was not purely white. In addition to being lined with pillars and carvings of various Titans, the walls were decorated with a series of humongous murals, painted with such exquisite passion that it almost took your breath away to look at them.

The murals presented a sort of story, as they passed before them. All of humanity, living in peace, in a land of beauty so rich it made Rex's heart ache. Elysium. And then to be cast out of the top of th World Tree, into Alrest, a world of suffering and war, to lose everything they had and then to keep losing it, to fall further and further from grace even long after they had been banished from the World Tree. To walk those halls and see those paintings was to feel a mounting sense of loss and despair. To know that whatever humanity may once have been, it could never be again. It was, Rex realized with a start, an odd set of paintings for a man who had himself climbed back up the World Tree.

Finally the hallway opened up into a wide throne room, bathed in the light of many stained glass windows. In the center of the throne room lay a massive circular wooden table, polished to a gleam, laid out with an extensive feast that immediately made Rex's mouth water, steaming cooked meats and vegetables, and a panacaea of fruit.

And at the head of the table, sitting in a golden throne, was Amalthus.

As the Praetor rose, Rex was immediately struck by the sheer presence of the man. He was tall, lithe, even for an Indoline, his skin a soft blue, shining with scales along the sides of his face, in long flowing white, black and gold robes, atop his head a large hat that served as a crown, ringed around with what appeared to be two draconic horns. A large black color bloomed around his head, framing what seemed to be a face very youthful for all his advanced age – Rex did not know how Indoline lifespans worked, but he would have never guessed Amalthus was beyond middle-aged.

But beyond all that, there was simply...something about him. Like you could feel history itself folding around him as he moved. And his gaze made the steely glares of Malos and Vandham feel like a gentle caress. There was not a sharpness to it. But when his eyes settled upon you, it felt as if you were being pressed beneath a mountain. Rex suddenly found it much more believable that this man, of all men, climbed the World Tree alone.

"I apologize for the rudeness in delaying our meeting," Amalthus said, his voice calm, smooth, and suddenly Morag was on high alert. She had not failed to notice his presence either, and now his voice...there was a sheer magnetism to Amalthus, a charisma that was almost primal in its intensity. The Praetor's voice was one to be listened to and obeyed. She had watched in dismay as men of much lesser charisma had seduced her nation into madness and war. She understood, almost immediately, why her parents had said Amalthus was so dangerous. "I assume Fan la Norne informed you of the difficulties this morning." His hand swept out over the feast laid out before them. "I hope you're hungry. This was a lunch meant to feed many more people, but I'm afraid they're gone now."

"Who was it, exactly," Brighid asked curiously, as they all pulled up chairs to the table, and Amalthus settled back into his throne, "Who had left this morning?"

The Praetor's gaze shifted to her and Morag, considering them, weighing them for a moment that seemed like an eternity. "The last of the Urayan diplomats, I'm afraid," he said softly. "I had been trying to convene a World Congress to...do what I could to set Mor Ardain off its path. But there's nothing more to be done. They left to be with their families."

His words suddenly hammered home reality for Morag. She had held out hope in some recess of her heart that some miracle might work itself, that the Ardainian invasion of Uraya might be avoided somehow. But...it was here that the last hope of a miracle might have presented itself. If Amalthus, of all people, said that there was nothing to be done, then that truly was it. The invasion would, without a doubt, happen. The hunger in her suddenly shriveled up and died.

Amalthus was still considering them, thoughtfully. "I have," he continued, quiet, yet his voice somehow carrying across the entire table, "Sent a contingent to Uraya."

Morag looked up in sudden alarm. "I...Praetor, are you taking sides? Are...are you going to war against Mor Ardain?" She would say that Mor Ardain was stronger, militarily, than Indol. But her mind raced over her history lessons. Lessons that had noted, sharply, that whenever the Praetor committed forces, his enemies had been destroyed. Utterly.

Amalthus let the question hang in the air for quite some time. "No," he said, finally. "My forces there are for the protection and evacuation of the civilian population. Though they will protect themselves if attacked. I would not threaten you over my dinner table, Morag. I have had extensive communications with your brother. I know he did not want this war. I know the Senate forced his hand in the initiation, and I know Brionac resorted to a coup to escalate it to a full invasion. Were Mor Ardain a lesser nation, I would have offered him my forces to restore his authority and prevent the war, however, so dire do I think the circumstances. But she is not, is she. Even I could not stand against Mor Ardain now."

His gaze swept over the table, lingering upon each of them in turn. Tora quailed beneath his stare, murmuring to himself, and even Poppi seemed unsettled. Nia tried to meet his gaze, but looked away after a moment, pretending to be suddenly interested in a plate of fish before her. Even so, she could feel that stare, piercing her to her very bones. Malos was the only one unperturbed as Amalthus considered him, his eyes settling upon the core crystal in his chest. Finally, he settled upon Rex. It took everything Rex had to meet that weighing gaze with a smile.

"So, you are the new Driver of the Aegis," Amalthus murmured. "After long centuries, it's good to have some new company."

"It's, ah, good to meet you as well. Y-your eminence," Rex replied, fumbling over his words in his nervousness.

"No need for formalities." Amalthus waved an dismissive hand, as if discarding with the concept of his title. "Monarch of Indol I may be, but I have always considered myself as merely a representative. Besides, you and I are the same, aren't we? Both Drivers of an Aegis. I consider us both equals."

Rex grinned, relaxing a bit, his face still burning despite this. "I guess so. When you put it that way."

The Praetor shifted his eyes back to Malos. "And Malos. You look a bit different than when I last saw you. I never did manage to get the chance to thank you for your efforts against Mythra, the first time around. Where you disappeared to was always a mystery to me. Though it is far too late, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Personally. You saved many others, but for me, you helped undo the worst of my sins."

"Not quite, right?" Malos replied, his face impassive. "Mythra is still around, isn't she?"

"To my shame, yes," Amalthus replied. "I have been attempting her capture since I learned that she was not destroyed. But the band of Flesh Eaters, Torna, that she has joined up with, makes this...exceedingly difficult."

Nia felt her legs turn to jelly at the mention of 'Torna' and 'Flesh Eaters' in Amalthus' mouth.

"Odd name for them to choose, don't you think?"

The Praetor nodded. "Perverse, really. But this is no talk for a meal. Please, enjoy yourselves. I would like to meet you in my office, privately, afterward, where we can talk more."

The meal was eaten mostly in silence, all of them cowed by the Praetor's presence. Amalthus himself didn't eat, despite Fan la Norne worriedly placing a plate in front of him and urging him to quietly, appearing lost in thought. He would occasionally look upward, asking a question, asking Tora how he had designed an artificial blade all on his own, asking Morag whether she planned to return to the Empire for the war. For Nia, mercifully, he had no questions, but she was aware of his gaze settling on her, from time to time, and she dreaded when those questions may come.

Finally, the meal finished, everyone full, Amalthus motioned to some servants in the corner of the throne room with long, thin fingers topped with sharp obsidian nails. They moved forward smoothly to collect the dishes as Amalthus rose with fluid grace. "The rest of you are welcome to dessert, or if you would like, to explore the Sanctum. Fan la Norne can show you to the Eastern wing, which serves as an art and historical museum to the public, if you would like. But Rex, Malos, if you would, please join me in my office."

Malos and Rex followed Amalthus down a long corridor, careful not to step on the train of his flowing robes as he moved forward. The office he led them to was gigantic, as Rex was beginning to suspect everything in the Sanctum was. A servant greeted them at the doorway, offering to fetch them tea, but Amalthus merely said he would like some privacy with his new guests, and the servant bobbed his head and glided smoothly away.

The Praetor sat behind a huge, carved desk, motioning them to take up a pair of seats in front of it. He sat, considering them, for a moment.

He was about to speak, when Rex actually broke the silence. "Oh!" he cried, smacking his forehead. "I almost forgot. How stupid of me. I was supposed to give you something." He reached into the small backpack he had strapped across his back, rummaging around in it for a moment, before removing an ornate gunblade. He placed this on the Praetor's desk with a somewhat clumsy clatter.

Amalthus looked down at the weapon for a moment, surprised. He picked it up, feeling its weight in his hand. "Well now," he said at last. "It has been a long time since I've seen this. A very, very long time. The weapon of my old blade. Well, at least before Mythra." He suddenly twirled the gunblade expertly in his hand, and gave Rex a sharp smile, the first they had seen from him. "Still got it."

"We met Minoth in Fonsa Myma. He said you could help us."

"That will depend greatly," Amalthus replied, sliding open a drawer in his desk to tuck the gunblade away, "On what it is that you want help with. Though fate is funny, isn't it. I invite you here, and you were also seeking me. We can discuss whatever aid you require, but first I would like to ask you some questions."

What Amalthus wanted to know, it turned out, was where exactly Malos had been found, their encounters with Torna, their encounters with Mythra, what they had experienced in Mor Ardain. Rex ended up recounting almost everything that had happened to them since he awoke Malos, though he concealed that Nia had been a member of Torna. He was worried that might leave holes in his story, but Amalthus hardly seemed focused on that. He asked the most quesitons about Torna and Mythra, particularly about Pyra's transformation into Mythra.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of talking – during which Amalthus had admitted a servant so Rex could get some tea to wet his throat – the tale came to an end. The Praetor leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, as Rex fell silent. "Quite the journey," he said quietly. "And so it is my help in getting to the World Tree that you are after."

Malos, who had remained mostly silent throughout the telling, spoke up suddenly. "Actually, before we talk about that, I have some questions for you."

"Certainly. It seems only fair."

Malos crossed his arms, quiet for a moment. And then suddenly: "Did you order Mythra to blow up Coeia?"

Amalthus' gaze slowly swiveled from the ceiling to level itself once more on Malos and Rex. Impossibly, it had grown even more weighty, even more intimidating. "Ah, yes," he murmured quietly. "I do remember that rumor, all those years ago."

"So did you?"

Amalthus looked down at his desk, gathering himself, before he looked up and began to speak. "I….would like you to understand some context. Coeia and Indol had been at war for….many years, before the latest iteration of the Aegis War. Brutal warfare. I suffered one of their invasions in my youth. It was during one of these Coeian invasions that I, as a very young child, lost my mother."

"I...I'm so sorry," Rex said quietly.

"They got what they deserved," Amalthus replied, his voice leaving it clear that what they got was probably best left unsaid. "But because of this, I was….extremely angry, in my youth. Particularly at Coeia. And it is, indeed, the reason why, the first thing I did after awakening Mythra was head to Coeia, and order her to annihilate Coeia's forces. It was shortly after this that Mythra left me to begin her rampage. I did not explicitly order her to sink Coeia. But there was very much a part of me that would have liked her to. Perhaps the greater part of me. And I have always wondered whether she felt that through our bond, and that was what set her on her path of destruction. So while I never explicitly ordered her to, I blamed myself as if I had." Amalthus looked upwards at Malos once more. "Is this answer to your satisfaction?"

Malos considered the Praetor. He got to his feet, pacing back and forth for a moment. "What," he said finally, "Happened to Haze?"

"You mean Fan la Norne."

"Her name's Haze," Malos replied, "Or at least it was. What was it that happened to her…? Why is she the Goddess of Indol now? What happened to her core?"

Amalthus remained silent, gesturing for Malos to sit, and not speaking until the Aegis did so. He got up from behind his desk, going to the door, and telling the servant there to please leave them in complete privacy. "What I tell you now," Amalthus began, as he sat down behind the desk once more, "Is one of Indol's darker secrets. As you may remember, I was not Praetor during the Aegis War. My predecessor, Praetor Rhadallis, was. After your final battle with Mythra, and the destruction of Torna, there was a group of Tornan refugees fleeing from the sinking Titan. Rhadallis thought you and Addam were among them, and sought to recapture you for the Praetorium. Well, you were not, but some of your companions – Jin, Lora, Haze….they were. Rhadallis was cruel. His forces slaughtered the refugees to a soul. From information obtained after the battle, I was able to gather that Lora was killed, though before she died, Jin was able to become a Flesh Eater and escape. Haze was the only core they managed to capture, though damaged. I was Quaestor at the time, and when I discovered Indol's forces had been used to kill not just the innocent, but those who had saved us from Mythra, I was...furious at Rhadallis."

Amalthus fell silent. "What did you do?" Rex asked, finally, his voice hushed.

"I killed him," Amalthus said simply. His voice betrayed no emotion, no hatred, it was a simple statement of fact. "It was how I became Praetor. I had Rhadallis poisoned for his transgressions, and assumed the throne."

Rex, and even Malos, sat in shocked silence. "Are you saying you're an usurper?" Rex finally forced out, his voice strangled.

"Yes." Amalthus lifted his gaze to meet theirs. "And I do not regret it, or even think it was wrong. What Rhadallis did was monstrous. To let him go unpunished for his crimes, to let him hold on to power, to let him continue to use Indol as a force for wickedness, that would have been a crime in itself. So yes. I killed him and took the throne, and it was one of the proudest moments of my life. Judge me if you like, I will not apologize. Of all the things I have done in my long life, that is the one I am most certain was the correct choice."

"And...Haze?" Malos pushed.

Amalthus sighed. "You are aware, through Minoth, of the existence of Flesh Eaters. Blades who can become independent of Drivers, and sometimes gain extraordinary abilities, through the consumption of human flesh, or the integration of human flesh into their form through less barbaric means. A technology Indol was well aware of at the time. One of the less well-known effects is that this can have great restorative effects on blades who have had their cores damaged, though it will degrade their stability in the long term. Well, there is a reverse process, where part of a blade's core can be integrated into a human. This can have great restorative effects on both blade _and _human. We call them Blade Eaters. Unimaginative name, I know. This technology was new to Indol, at the time of the Aegis War, and poorly understood. But we had no idea how long Haze's core, damaged as it was, might last. And it seemed to me a very poor reward for one of the saviors of Alrest to crumble to nothing, stabbed in the back by those she thought allies. So..."

Amalthus reached up, and lifted the crown from his head. There in the center of his forehead was the other half of Haze's core crystal, though it flickered with no inner life. It was dark and dead.

"I personally assumed the risk of the operation. As I said, poorly understood at the time. If it had been completely successful, Haze should have awoken fully functioning, and both the half of her core still within her and the half within me should have lived," Amalthus continued. "But as it was, she awoke with no idea of her identity, afraid, broken, tormented, and the half within me has never shown any sign of life. Though, for all that, she did live. I gave her a new title, and a place of honor, within Indol. It seemed the least that she deserved."

"But why invent a new identity for her?" Malos asked quietly. "Why….rewrite the history books about Coeia? Why hide all this?"

"I had considered," Amalthus replied, placing his hat back upon his head, "Being open and honest with Indol's crimes. With Haze, with the world. But I realized it would do very little good, in the end. What was I to tell Haze? When she was already broken, lost, terrified? That she was here among the murderers of her beloved Driver, shackled irrevocably to their leader? And what would informing the world of Rhadallis' crimes do? Squander the considerable power and influence of the Praetorium, when I had already given the world all the justice it could hope for from the former Praetor, and set about reforming it. More good could be done, more of the living helped, I realized, if I let Rhadallis rot forgotten in the graveyard of history. I wanted to tell people – dearly so. Nothing would have satisfied me more than to see his memory appropriately stained black in history's pages. But in the end, I bit my tongue. To this very day, I still argue with myself over whether that was the right thing to do. But it is what was done."

Malos stared at Amalthus, as the Praetor regarded him coolly. Nothing about him broke his stoicism, nothing about him was anything less than the height of regal command. But something gnawed at Malos. Something….just seemed off. "Why tell us all of this?"

Amalthus gave a shrug, shifting beneath his heavy robes. "Why not? I do consider Rex and I equals, and you deserve to know the truth of what happened to your companions from the Aegis War. I do not fear you telling anyone. Any who might have held loyalty to Rhadallis and want to avenge him are centuries dead. So long has my rule been that even were the high priests to find out I did usurp the throne all that time ago, I doubt they would care. That's the thing about a long life. You watch all the old passions, all the things that seemed to matter so much at the time, fade into dust."

"I have a question, if you don't mind," Rex spoke up. "I want to know, what….what made you climb the World Tree? And what was it like?"

Amalthus seemed to look inward on himself. And suddenly, a despair flashed across his face that seemed shockingly familiar. A despair, Rex realized, that he had seen on the face of Mythra. "What pushed me over the edge," the Praetor said, almost as if to himself, "What set me on my course with utter determination...was...the darkest moment of my life. I...will not speak of it. Only to say that it made me wonder what this world was. Made me wonder what kind of creator would build it. Would build a place where such darkness was possible. But even before that moment pushed me over the edge, I had wondered. You said you were a salvager, Rex. I was actually a salvager in my youth for a time, as well."

Rex's eyes lit up, despite the apparent change in subject. "Ah, really? How was salvaging five centuries ago? What's the coolest thing you ever dug up?"

"It was considerably more difficult than it is now. I understand many methods have been refined and technologies perfected. It astounds me that what you wear now is actually your salvager suit. Mine weighed nearly twice as much as I do. As for the, ah, coolest thing I ever salvaged..." Amalthus reached into one of his desk drawers, fishing out what looked to be a small globe of smooth, dark stone. Rex leaned forward, eyes sparkling with curiousity and excitement, and Malos was suddenly struck by how much the Praetor and Rex looked like each other, in that moment. Amalthus' eyes suddenly flared with intensity and excitement as well, a sincere appreciation and curiousity for the relics of the old world, a small smile twitching at the corner of the Praetor's mouth, the sadness that was so well-worn into his face that you only realized it was there when it was gone suddenly draining away. It was like glimpsing at the man Amalthus may have been had the world not been as it was. "Watch this," the Praetor said, voice hushed, and his fingers traced a familiar pattern over the sphere. Suddenly it lifted into the air under its own power, floating a few feet above his desk. Inner light gleamed within the sphere, and suddenly projected outward, and there, suddenly, hanging in the air, slowly rotating, etched in radiant blue and green light, was an image of a globe. But nothing like Alrest. There was no Cloud Sea, no World Tree, no Titans. Vast stretches of blue ocean, detailed enough that you could see the white foam of waves cresting and traveling across them, great, humongous stretches of land, mountains and forests, and here and there, gridlike patterns of lights etched into the globe's surface, pulsing – cities.

Rex stared at this in awe, sharing a happy grin with Amalthus. And then the globe flickered in the air, winked out of existence, and the smooth black sphere dropped back down to the Praetor's desk with a dull thud. "Ah," said Amalthus. "It did used to hold that for much longer. I suppose whatever power source it uses must be dying."

"That's amazing, though," Rex said, almost on the edge of his seat. "Is that...was that Alrest?"

Amalthus quietly slipped the sphere back into his desk. "I have no way of knowing, unfortunately. Whatever it was, the currents of the Cloud Sea had carried it far from any clues about its origin, or what it was meant to depict, when I had found it. But that was what I always thought, myself. It was Alrest, as it was ages ago. And though I may have sold it for a small fortune, money I could have dearly used when I was young, I always kept it." Amalthus raised his eyes to meet Rex's. "You told me Malos wants to go to the top of the World Tree to talk to his Father. Why do you want to go there, Rex?"

It was Rex's turn to be quiet for a moment. "Because," he began uncertainly, "Because the world is dying. The Titans are disappearing. Because we...we need something better. We need a place where everyone can live in peace. We need Elysium. It can't keep going like this, with everyone killing each other, it...it can't, there has to be something better. There has to be more than this. Doesn't there?" There was a note of desperation that had entered his voice. "Please, there has to be something better." He looked up at Amalthus, eyes large and shining. Something, Malos realized, was straining within Rex. Straining under the weight of all he had seen. "Please."

Amalthus regarded Rex, then nodded slowly. "Long ago," he said quietly, "Too long ago...I thought as you did. It was why I climbed the World Tree. Though I found neither Elysium, nor the Architect there. I believe it was because I was….unworthy." The Praetor gestured around himself, at the large carved walls, glowing with light. "I tried to make this city capture what I thought Elysium might have been, from what I did see within the World Tree. So much that I...did not understand. Rex, I understand your desire all too well. I will gladly help you."

"You will?" Rex exclaimed, sounding relieved. "Oh, thank you so much!"

"No need for thanks," Amalthus mused. "Perhaps this is my destiny. I always thought that one day, I would have to return to the World Tree, somehow, someway, to save Alrest myself. A form of arrogance, perhaps. Maybe my real destiny is to learn that, for all that I have done, for all that I am considered a legend, my true role is simply to play a part in your story." The Praetor leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "Now, there are two obstacles to the World Tree. You have seen the first. Artifice Ophion."

"Yeah, I really thought I had destroyed him as well," Malos said. "Really going 0 for 2 there."

"Ophion was a weapon wielded by Mythra, during the Aegis War," Amalthus elaborated. "Malos, here, summoned a great host of smaller artifices to destroy it."

"Wait, you can do that?" Rex turned to Malos, a frown on his face. "That really would have come in handy, you know."

"It's...different now," Malos explained. "Back during the Aegis War, I had access...a connection...to the World Tree, and many of the...creations of Father. The connection is severed, now, somehow."

"Which brings us to the second obstacle," Amalthus replied. "Sometime during Mythra's rampage, I returned to the World Tree. I sought to climb it again, to not stop until I found the Architect, to petition him to stop her. But where before the World Tree had been open, now I found it shielded by barriers of light and darkness. It is my belief that it will take both you and Mythra to unlock the path to the Architect."

"So _that's _why she dredged me up," Malos said, frowning. "But that means..." he growled, suddenly, frustrated. "How the hell are we going to manage that?"

"Through capture or through convincing her," Amalthus replied. "I...don't have an easy answer for that, though I will help you however I can. I do have a way past the first obstacle, however. You did defeat Ophion, Malos. He sunk beneath the Cloud Sea. It was the nation of Tantal – Zeke's home country – that dredged him back up, shortly after the Aegis War. They claimed to make repairs, although I am skeptical of that – I find it more likely that the creations of the Architect are capable of regenerating themselves to an incredible degree. They did, however, manage to remove the control unit of Ophion, and set it to guard the World Tree." Amalthus frowned. "To, I suppose, prevent people like me visiting it and bringing trouble down upon Alrest again. If you can retrieve that control unit from Tantal, you could neutralize Ophion. Though its existence is a closely guarded secret of their monarchy. I suspect that Zeke himself does not know."

Malos folded his arms. "And so how do you?"

"You must let me keep _some _of my secrets, Aegis," Amalthus said with a small, devious smile.

"Right," Rex said, scratching his chin with one gloved hand. "Let's take it one step at a time. So it's Tantal we've got to go to next."

"I hope that you will take the time to stay here, for a while, at least." The Praetor sat forward, eyes gleaming. "I can see to your provisioning, see if my diplomatic connections cannot give you an...easier time of things in Tantal...and I would very much like to discuss politics with Morag, should we get the opportunity."

"Sure," Rex replied. "I don't think it would hurt staying here a few days."

"Very good." Amalthus looked up as, suddenly, a great golden clock chimed from the end of his office. "Ah. We have been talking here a while, it seems. I will hold you here no longer. You can rejoin your companions. Though my schedule is busy, I will make time to speak to you again before you leave. It was a pleasure meeting you, Rex. And good to see you again, Malos."

Rex and Malos rose, and headed towards the doors of the Praetor's office. But before he left, Rex turned around, his hand on the door. "Uh, hey….Amalthus."

"Yes?"

"I..." Rex squirmed a bit, then dove on ahead. "I...wanted to say...I think you're a good person. It sounds like you had a hard life and...maybe you did the wrong thing, when you were younger. And you were given a life with a lot of hard choices. But you didn't give up. You...did the right thing, and even with your mistakes, you tried to make the world a better place. And….I think that's...I really admire you for it. That's all."

Amalthus stared at Rex, and for the first time since they had seen him, he seemed shocked. And then storm of despair so utter and complete passed over his face, a despair of such devastating ruin that even Mythra's seemed like a pale shadow next to it. It was shocking, a grief so dark that Rex, for a moment, felt his knees go weak. But it was there for only a moment, and then it was gone. "Thank you, Rex," the Praetor said quietly. "That means a lot to me."

And with that, Rex and Malos walked away. But Malos looked back one last time at the Praetor in his office, now a dark shadow behind his desk, framed by the dying light of day. He had seemed….eminently reasonable, and it was apparent he had Rex convinced. But no man alive had ever made Malos feel as uncomfortable as Amalthus had. Like his words warped and broke the world, made it wrong. He was lying about something, or hiding something. But about what, Malos had no idea.

After the two had left his office, Amalthus was still for some time. Eventually, he slid open his desk drawer, retrieving the gunblade Rex had handed to him. He held it in his hands, staring at it. He was still staring at it when Fan la Norne quietly slipped into his office, softly closing the door behind her. "Our visitors have returned to their apartments for the day," she said quietly. And then she noticed the blade in Amalthus' hands. "Is...that what I think it is?"

"Minoth's old weapon, yes," the Praetor murmured, not looking up at her. 

Fan walked forward, sitting in one of the chairs before his desk quietly, eyeing the gunblade dispprovingly. She felt the closest she had ever felt to rage, looking at this weapon. She knew little about the circumstances that Minoth had left Amalthus under. But she knew enough to know that Minoth had left him in his hour of greatest pain, that he had left at the moment something had broken in Amalthus and he needed his friends more than ever.

Suddenly, Amalthus looked up, looking at her, meeting her gaze, and there was such pain, such despair and sadness etched into his features, that Fan gasped, feeling her heart shatter. "Oh, Amalthus," she said, reaching out for him. "I...I wouldn't leave you like he did. I would never abandon you. Please tell me you know that."

Amalthus was quiet for a long moment. "Yes," he said suddenly, sounding very tired, "You would."

"No," Fan said miserably, ignoring the tears that began to fall down her face. "No, please. You must know I love you, Amalthus. You don't need to be alone."

Amalthus was only a few feet across from her, but he may as well have been a thousand miles away. "We are," he said, dark shadows beneath his eyes, "All of us, alone, forever. A lesson I learned a very long time ago. It is the human experience. Even more so, it is reality for blades. You are destined to forget me, to one day live as if I had never existed. It made me angry, once. But no more. You are not to be blamed for the nature the Architect gave you. People are not to be blamed for how the Architect made them. The world is not to be blamed for the nature the Architect bestowed upon it." He rose, tall, commanding, a thousand feet tall, a thousand miles away, his face and heart a shadow. "I have lived so long with the hard reality that it does not pain me anymore."

Amalthus said that, but Fan could feel, through the bond, that seeing the gunblade had opened an old wound in him, one so complete, so monumental, that it was as if her driver was nothing but wound. But Amalthus had built a wall around himself so completely, shuttered himself so utterly, that all Fan could ever do is watch in despair and feel her heart breaking. She wanted nothing more but to leap forward and embrace him, but nothing about her embrace would ever reach him. It was a wound she would never be able to heal.

Amalthus quietly excused himself from her presence, saying something about retiring early for the night. Fan only watched as he left. And then, as she so often did after speaking to Amalthus, she put her face in her hands and wept.

**29.**

At the Praetor's request, the party lingered in Indol for almost a week. They spent their days exploring the city, directed by Zeke and Pandy, pointing out the quite active life of Indol hidden beneath that quiet stoicism of her people. Indol's people were highly religious and philosophical, worshipping the Titans, drakes and dragons, from whom they considered themselves descended. Festivals of flame and drink lit up the city, if you knew where to find them. They visited Gramps, who they found relaxing in a temple that had a dock built into the Cloud Sea specifically so Titans could make their way within, his great stone scales being cleaned and polished by happily attending Indoline priests. They considered Rex's offer of payment for the service sheer madness – the honor of attending on a Titan was payment in itself. Morag found herself called into Amalthus' audience whenever the Praetor found the time, mostly to discuss her brother's troubles with Brionac. Amalthus seemed to have an incredibly extensive knowledge of Ardainian politics, and she often found herself wondering how many of the Praetor's spies prowled Mor Ardain.

At night, though, the city became as quiet and still as any abandoned field in Alrest, and it seemed almost blasphemy to break that silence. Nia awoke one of those nights in the Praetorium, her arms wrapped tightly around Dromarch as his massive purrs rumbled through her chest. She lay there, stroking his thick, soft fur, for some time, thinking quietly to herself.

It was odd. She had been sleeping a bit better over the past week or so. Usually when she awoke like this, it was the result of a nightmare. But there was no nightmare this night, no pumping heartbeat, no adrenaline coursing through her veins. If anything, she felt a strange calm. It just felt...she didn't know. She had an urge to be up.

She delicately extricated herself from Dromarch, careful not to awaken him. She knew how sensitive he was, at night, to her slight shifts. Suddenly, she felt bad. Dromarch had essentially trained himself to get less sleep, and to sleep less deeply, so he could be there for her should her nightmares wake her up. She reached out and scratched under his chin, and he stretched out in his sleep, lengthening his neck as he arched. She was glad she had managed to get out without waking him up, he deserved his sleep.

But as she scratched, she looked out the window, at the moon playing across the city. Indol was rather pretty, in a mysterious, almost supernatural kind of way, in that moonlight. Again, suddenly, she felt a strange urge overtake her. She should take a bit of a walk, out in that pale moonlight. See the city up close, beneath that delciate glow.

She quietly slipped out of her pyjamas and into her yellow suit, yawning a bit as she, softly as possible, left her bedroom and crossed across the common area, out into the cool night air.

The plaza was utterly empty, save for the fountains, various statues carved of flowing white rock. She shivered a bit – it was a little chilly, what was she doing out here? She wondered – as she strolled among the fountains, the only sound the soft, gentle rushing of water, glancing at them.

Suddenly, she stopped and stared at the sight of one fountain, tucked away in one of the darker corners of the plaza, then rushed forward to get a closer look. Her eyes had not been playing tricks on her. This fountain was a carving of Mythra, eyes fiery and defiant, sword raised as if to strike someone down, flames wreathing her feet and legs. The water dripped from the edge of her blade, in what Nia realized was supposed to gruesomely represent blood. She seemed so….different from Pyra, different even from how she had seen her in Fonsa Myma. There was no sadness in that stare, only mercilessness. "Sheesh," Nia muttered to herself. "Who the hell put this thing here?"

"Trouble sleeping?"

Nia yelped and spun around, then felt her heart drop into her stomach. There, tall and cloaked in darkness, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight, his shadow stretching across the plaza to reach out toward her, stood Amalthus.

"P-praetor," she managed to get out, almost wincing as he strode toward her. Every step he took, she felt a pressure bearing down upon her, almost as if the sheer weight of his existence threatened to crush her. "What are you doing out here?"

He offered her a kindly smile as he drew close, though his eyes felt as if they were burning holes in her. "I often find I have trouble sleeping as well. The plaza offers comfort." His eyes flicked towards the fountain Nia had been looking at. "Ah. I was wondering which of these fountains had caught your eye."

"Yeah, well," Nia muttered, looking away from him down at the stones of the plaza, worn smooth by centuries of petitioner's feet, "It was a bit surprising to see her here."

"Is it," Amalthus murmured. "During the Aegis War, for all the destruction she caused...no, because of it...there were many who worshiped her as a Goddess. And I suppose if any deserve that title, it is the Daughter of the Architect himself. This carving is from that time."

"Yeah, but why keep it here?"

"To remind myself," Amalthus said softly. "Of what it was that I unleashed on the world." He looked down at the Gormotti, face hidden in darkness. "Nia, right? I apologize that we have not yet had the opportunity to speak. Rex travels with so many interesting companions."

Nia laughed nervously. "Don't worry. I get it. I'm just some Gormotti who joined up with him, not some Ardainian princess or master nopon engineer."

"Is that so," Amalthus replied, his voice like a blade held to her throat.

A moment of long silence passed between them, as the Praetor turned back to the statue. Nia risked glancing over at him, but almost couldn't bear to keep her eyes on him. It was like looking at the sun.

"So, Nia," Amalthus said suddenly, softly, "How is Jin doing these days?"

Nia's blood turned to ice. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

Amalthus turned to face her now, and it was like his eyes were the entire night sky. She whimpered, hating herself for it, held paralyzed by that gaze as surely as if Amalthus had clapped her in chains. "Foolish girl," the Praetor whispered, his words driving a hot spike of horror through her heart, "Do not lie to me. You are not hidden from my sight, Flesh Eater."

She should run, Nia knew. Run, and never, ever look back. Oh, what a fool she had been. What a fool to follow Rex here, into the heart of the Praetorium, into the heart of Indol, face to face with Amalthus himself. She should have known, the minute she saw him, that Amalthus was too canny, too absolute, to be fooled by her simple deceptions. She had known Amalthus was a legend. But she had never considered what that meant. It meant that while her heart was screaming at her to run, the Praetor could hold her paralyzed with a simple gaze.

She remained silent, shaking, as Amalthus quietly walked to a nearby pair of benches, with a small table between them. He motioned towards the bench across from him. "Sit."

Nia fought against the sudden, shocking urge to obey him. His words carried with them a primal command, one that demanded obedience. Amalthus watched her for a moment, then leaned forward. "Nia," he said, not raising his voice, "_Sit."_

Nia couldn't help it. Those eyes, that voice...it was like he was reaching into her very head, winding those long fingers of his around her heart. It was almost as if her arms and legs moved of their own accord as she walked forward and sat across from the Praetor. She stared down at the table, her heart pounding, gasping, trying to catch her breath.

"Look at me."

Nia's head jerked upward, and suddenly she was receiving the full force of the Praetor's gaze. Those eyes, like stars swam in them. Like they were the whole world, those eyes that had seen centuries, taking up her entire vision.

"So, a member of Torna, in Rex's company," Amalthus said quietly.

"No!" Nia almost shouted. "N...not a member of Torna. Not anymore."

"That would be a very convenient thing for Rex to believe."

"It's...it's true. You talked to Rex, didn't you?" Nia was once again shocked by herself, to hear that pleading in her voice. Almost like she was begging a judge to spare her life. "I've fought by his side, I've healed him...I promise, I'm no member of Torna, not anymore."

"Perhaps," Amalthus replied, his voice smooth. "Or perhaps, you wanted to prove your loyalty, to gain his trust, so that at a key moment you might betray him."

Nia realized with a start that whatever else Amalthus was, he was a man very, very schooled at deception.

"There is, after all," Amalthus continued after a small pause, "The matter of why you have concealed that you are a Flesh Eater from him."

Nia stared at Amalthus, mouth agape. She did not question how he knew this. This man out of myth and legend, she knew now, it was always folly to think that he might not see through her with that weighty gaze, pierce her very soul. But for him to ask her this... "But...don't you _know?_ It's...it's _you. _You're the one who hunts Flesh Eaters. You...damn you, you're the reason why I had to run for so long, hide for so many years! Damn you!" Outrage flooded into her, weakening whatever spell it was Amalthus held her in. Memories of being pursued by Indoline warriors in gleaming white armor, inhuman, wielding cruel, brutal staves. Every stranger's kindness that might turn on her at a moment's notice if they discovered she was a Flesh Eater, all because the Praetorium taught them that Flesh Eaters were monstrous, diabolical. And this man was at the head of it all. "How...how dare you ask me that! How dare you ask me why I hide!"

Amalthus sighed, and suddenly, he was looking at her with pity. "I have often wondered if I made the right choices in my pursuit of Flesh Eaters."

"The right choices?! How could they be right? The suffering you've caused, the suffering you've put me through-"

Nia fell silent as Amalthus held up a hand. "After the Aegis War," he began, "When I had secured my control of the Praetorium, I felt I had...a responsibility, a duty, to keep the world...stable. I realized that what made Mythra so dangerous – and not just Mythra, but Malos as well – was...all that power, concentrated in just one blade. Flesh Eaters...they represent a similar problem. Not always, but sometimes, they will gain incredible, vast amounts of power by consuming their drivers. Not on the level of Mythra. But incredible power all the same, and without the need for a driver. But you know that, don't you? ...Blades are no more pure than men. After the Aegis War, many blades found out about the method for becoming a Flesh Eater. Ironically, because of the very technologies Indol had pioneered. Many were tempted, and many killed their drivers to become Flesh Eaters. Perhaps they did it to escape them. Perhaps their drivers were abusive. But the world could not afford a society of super-powered blades with resentment against humanity. A secret war ensued, spearheaded by me. If you think my methods are brutal now, they were much more so then. Thousands died in the cold and dark. A price I still consider worth paying. Afterwards, I made of Flesh Eaters a whispered legend. I taught the world that, if they did obtain knowledge of Flesh Eaters, they were monstrous, cruel things. To discourage any blades who might be tempted from taking that step ever again."

Nia had her arms wrapped around herself so hard that her nails almost dug through her suit into her skin. "Damn you. I never wanted this. It was my driver that pushed me into becoming a Flesh Eater. I just...I just wanted to be able to heal..."

"Did you?" Amalthus' eyes drilled into her soul. "During my war, there was a Flesh Eater who always escaped my grasp, though I would have treated him more gently than any other. Jin. Later, I learned his escapes were due in no small part to how he had joined forces with Mythra. And now, here we are, centuries later. With Mythra trying to breach the World Tree, to petition the Architect to end all of Alrest. Should her Father deny her, do you think she would give up her quest? Do you have any idea of her power….? Piercing lances of hellish light, falling from the sky, splitting Titans in two. This is who you found yourself with. What do you suppose you would be doing, this very moment, had you not fallen in with Rex? Assuming, of course, that you are loyal to him."

"I was only even with Jin," Nia whispered, "Because he rescued me from _you. _And I will never, never, on my _life, _betray Rex. He...he's the best person I ever met, he wants to help everyone, help the world, and I..."

"Love him," Amalthus finished for her. "Or, at least, you think you do."

"How do you know that?"

"The naivety of youth," the Praetor mused. "I have seen enough of the glances you think secret between you two, seen how Rex's eyes shine when he speaks of you, and yours when you speak of him. No, I would not be much of a diplomat if I did not know how to recognize love." _And use it, _ the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. "For what it is worth, it is because of this that I suspect you are being truthful when you tell me you are no longer part of Torna. And for what it is worth, I am sorry for your suffering at the hands of my men. I have often wondered if there may have been a different path forward with Flesh Eaters. But I never saw any, and I did what I thought must be done for the good of Alrest. Perhaps it was the wrong choice. But perhaps if I had not done as I did, Jin would currently have an army of Flesh Eaters at his back, rather than a meager handful. One of the burdens of leadership is that you will never truly know how your alternative choices may have turned out. All you can do is wonder, and live with the consequences of the sins you chose to commit."

"So..." Nia finally was able to wrench her eyes away from the Praetor's hypnotic gaze. "What was the point of all this, then? Scare me half to death before you let me go…?"

"My dear," Amalthus replied, "What makes you so certain you are ever leaving here?"

Nia gasped, looking back up at the Praetor. She wished she hadn't. Something was...happening with him. It was as if the whole world was revolving around him. "N-no," she forced out. "You got what you wanted! I'm...not a member of Torna-"

"Even so," and even though his voice was a calm murmur, she flinched as if it were the blast of a thousand trumpets. "Why leave things up to chance? Why not be certain? That boy is the best chance…" Amalthus paused. "The best chance that Alrest has for peace. Why should I leave even a scrap of doubt that there is someone among his ranks that may betray him?"

"Rex would...he'd never let you-"

"Wouldn't he," and Nia gasped as some darkness crept into her mind, traveling along the mere force of the Praetor's words. "Kings and Emperors, nations and peoples, all of these have been swayed by my words. Never a man nor woman has lived who I have not been able to convince, Nia. And you think your petty infatuation would shield you from my will? Do you think Rex loves you so dear? Isn't that a bit arrogant? What if I were to tell him you were a Flesh Eater? Or merely tell him that Torna exclusively recruits Flesh Eaters, and allow him to draw his own conclusions?" The darkness in Nia's head began to howl, and she clutched her head, moaning. This was nothing like her own voices that tormented her. This was so much worse. Something primal, laced into Amalthus' words, a darkness, a sickness so complete that even her own demons stood aside in awe. _He would abandon you, _it whispered to her, _for after all, you were never connected in the first place, we are alone, child, alone in this prison, ALONE, IN ETERNITY, ALONE IN THE DARK, alone in this brief flicker, and we are fooling ourselves, we can never be anything but alone, __lie to yourself, oh lie, __but in your last moments, locked in your head, before the eternity of death, you will know the truth, you are alone and you always were._

"Can you convince me, Nia?" Amalthus was saying, watching her with a cocked eyebrow, but his voice seemed like it was coming from a thousand miles away. Nia was vaguely aware that she had fallen off the bench, and was currently leaning against it, clutching at her core crystal. Something was...all that howling darkness in her head was traveling to her core, ripping through her, plucking strings within her. "I am a reasonable man. I am not without mercy. Tell me why I should not take everything from you. Is your freedom worth the risk to Alrest? I will have _certainty, _girl. I have worked too hard, too long, to let fate hang on the thread of your fickle, youthful emotions. So forget Rex. He does not exist." Nia howled as suddenly, all memories of Rex were ripped from her, as if the force of the Praetor's words had indeed, erased him from existence. She clawed after them, desperately, feeling nothing but their deep, indescribable loss. "Neither does Jin. Mythra. Malos. Morag. Brighid. Tora. Poppi." Nia writhed as memory after memory was torn from her, and before her, with each lost memory, Amalthus seemed to grow, and grow, and grow, until he was a mile high, and Nia was lost, with no memories of her own, no knowledge of who she even was. Amalthus eyes took up the world, stars, galaxies swirling within them. "Now, Nia. Now that you are alone, as we always are. What is it _you _want? Where do your _true _loyalties, untarnished by the circumstances of your personal connections, lie? _This _is what you you will ultimately always return to, in the end."

Nia didn't answer him. She was struggling within herself. She knew her memories were locked away somewhere. Even if she didn't remember what they were, she knew they were precious, too precious to let them be torn from her. Even the ones that she knew were full of pain.

"ANSWER, NIA," Amalthus intoned, and his voice was the voice of a thousand Kings, and the night sky shook and flared, and she heard a distant scream that she did not know whether or not it was her own, but she still reached for those memories, not even knowing who she was, but she knew one thing, she was a healer, that was what she did, she fixed people, she cured people, she made sick people better. She suddenly glowed with golden light, healing water flowing from her fingertips, and that darkness crowding around her, swirling around her, recoiled and retreated for a moment. Because that was what it was, wasn't it? A sickness. A sickness, an infected wound, like the world had never seen. A dark violence forged by history.

Suddenly, the world spun around her, Amalthus' eyes flashed, the stars in them exploding, her memories flooded into her, tumbling into place one after the other-

And suddenly she was sitting again, on the pavement of the Sanctum's plaza, gasping for breath. Amalthus still sat calmly on his bench, hands folded in his lap, regarding her oddly. "Extraordinary," he said quietly.

Nia staggered to her feet, her legs shaking. "I...what did you do to me, you...I'll...I'll bash you proper, I swear-"

"Will you," Amalthus mused, and suddenly his eyes flared with hidden depths, a promise of pain, and Nia realized that whatever she had seen, it was a fraction of the darkness that lay within this man, the abyss he had lying within. "I think you will do no such thing. I had the truth from you, Nia, that's all. I had to be certain where your loyalties were. Well, you have convinced me."

"Whatever you...whatever you did, I'll – I'm going to tell Rex. What the hell are you?"

Amalthus cocked an eyebrow at her, a small smile crossing his lips. "I am just a man. All I did was have a conversation with you. If you wish to tell Rex, that's up to you. Your Flesh Eater reality is yours to reveal to him, if you please." He shrugged. "Personally, I think Rex will see the merit of my concern over your loyalty."

Nia furrowed her brow, as her memories of what had happened found themselves muddied and fogged. All she could remember was Amalthus talking to her. Quite harshly, questioning her loyalty, yes...that...was that really all that had happened? All that dread, that dim memory of darkness, had...was that all her? Was all the horror she felt really all in her head?

Amalthus rose, sweeping his robes around him. "It was good that we had this conversation now, while we still had the time. I think you will prove a dear ally to Rex. And to the world. Just remember, Nia. When you cross paths with Mythra, remember." He pointed to the fountain, to Mythra's form holding the sword aloft, ready to strike. "_This _is who Mythra really is, deep down. She will extinguish this world as surely as a hurricane puts out a candle's flame, should she succeed. There is no healing her. _This is who she is."_

Nia watched as Amalthus swept away, back towards the towering Sanctum, not taking her eyes off of him until he had ascended the steps and made his way back inside.

She staggered away, then, back towards the apartments, hugging herself. Suddenly the night seemed bitterly cold, though it was, in fact, a mild chill. She stumbled across the common area, opening the door to her room, seeing the slumbering form of Dromarch, still sleeping soundly in her bed, thank the Architect. And then she noticed something.

She couldn't feel her ether connection to her blade.

She reached out, desperately. She wanted to feel a connection to something. She wanted to feel something that made her feel not so alone. But it was as if a thick block of ice had frozen itself around her heart. She dimly remembered how alone, utterly alone, terribly alone, Amalthus had made her feel. "No," she whispered. "No, no, please. That can't be real." But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she struggled, the ether connection wouldn't come.

The shadows of the room deepened as she reeled, fear coursing through her. She was alone. Dromarch may as well have been a lump of stone to her, for all the connection she could forge with him. She was alone in the cold and the dark and-

Moments later, she had left her room and entered Rex's, sitting on the edge of his bed, kicking off her boots. She tried to be as quiet as possible, but with a tired mumble, Rex still awoke, groggily looking over at her. "Nia….?" he said, smiling at first. "Wait a second. Nia?!" Suddenly, he clutched his blankets to him, as if to cover up.

"Yeah. I had….a really bad dream. Look, just keep quiet. I wanna sleep with you."

"Wh-" Rex sputtered. "Well, okay, look, hold on, let me put on some pyjamas. I only got my boxers on – SHEESH! Your hands are cold! You been sticking them in the freezer?"

"I know. I know I'm cold. Warm me up. Please."

"Nia you...you can't just say that. It's...going to have effects."

"I don't care if I see your-"

"Well _I _care! Wh-hold on, don't just take all the blankets-"

"You're so warm, you don't need them-"

"I'm warm because of the blankets! Look, alright, let's just-"

"Are those hearts on your boxers…?"

"Don't you bust into my room and criticize my-"

"No, no, no, not like that. I don't wanna be big spoon. I want your arms around me."

"_For the love of the Titans, Nia. _Okay, c'mere, we can-"

Eventually, they settled down beneath the blankets, Rex wrapping his arms around Nia, while she wrapped her arms around him, her head nuzzled against his chest, hearing the beat of his heart. The warmth from him slowly seeped into her, as she held on as tightly as she could. "Y'smell nice," she murmured.

"Nia, I am _begging _you here," Rex muttered. She laughed, cheeks beginning to burn, life and emotion beginning to return to her. What would the others think, if they saw them like this, she thought. She might be in her jumpsuit, although there was a part of her that dearly wished she could take it off, but Rex was mostly undressed. And his skin against hers, it made her burn with life and heat she desperately needed to feel.

Eventually, Rex settled back into sleep, as she hoped she would. That block of ice around her ether connection, that chain forged by Amalthus' words, slowly began to thaw, as her core struggled to forge a connection with Rex, as she was hoping it would. Eventually, with a great shattering, it broke through, creating an ether connection with him, and she nearly sobbed with relief into his chest. What was it about Amalthus that had frozen her like that?

Rex muttered in his sleep, perhaps feeling the connect, and gripped her tighter. Nia felt her blood racing with flame, life, heat, and she struggled to control her ether connection. If it grew too strong, she didn't know what she would do. Well, that wasn't quite right. She knew exactly what she'd do, and this wasn't the best time or place for that. It helped that the lingering chill of her conversation in the plaza had sunk into her bones, making her feel exhausted. So exhausted was she that she drifted towards sleep with her ether connection to Rex still ongoing.

Her thoughts began to drift as she nodded off. Amalthus, she realized, must live with that awful feeling of being alone all the time. What had he seen, in his long life, that had convinced him of such darkness?

But at the same time, it felt good to know, with utter clarity, with utter certainty, that he was wrong about one thing. She could feel it shining through the ether bond, through Rex's burning, brilliant soul. Legend Amalthus may be, silver tongued to make Kings end Emperors take heed. Force of nature and will, myth made flesh, clever and canny and cunning, so far beyond all that she had thought possible. But he was wrong.

He would have never convinced Rex to give her up.

**30.**

Nia awoke as suddenly, the room shook around her, books shaking in their shelves, the bed rattling and shifting across the floor. She felt pressed into the bed for a moment, as if pushed downward by a great force of momentum, which let up after a moment. "The bloody hell was that…?" she muttered. She glanced downward at Rex. The ether connection between the two of them had dropped – it must have stopped while they slept – and Rex himself, while he muttered and rolled over in his sleep, did not wake up from the apparent earthquake.

Something...something was happening, though. Nia could feel it. She wasn't sure what it was. But the air seemed to crackle with electricity. Something was...

Suddenly the door crashed open, revealing Malos, his eyes as hard as she had ever seen them. "Rex, wake up," he snapped, "We…." suddenly, he took in the scene before him. Nia, laying in Rex's bed, and Rex, mostly undressed. Nia's face burned as a mocking smile slowly crept across his face. "Oh," Malos said. "Of course."

Rex stirred at her side, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Malos? Wh-" He looked at the smile on Malos' face, then looked over at Nia, eyes wide. "Look, it's not what you think," he shouted, waving his hands. "Nothing happened, I swear-"

Suddenly, Poppi appeared behind Malos, peering in the doorway as well. "What Rex shouting about? What nothing happen so important to shout to world-" Poppi's orange glowing eyes fell on Nia, and a mocking smile that almost matched Malos' grew on her face, as well. "Oh. This what a nothing look like?" The robot and Malos exchanged skeptical smirks. Those two got on way too well. Poppi glanced down the hallway, giving Nia a sly smirk. "Oh, morning, Dromarch. Come and see the nothing."

Nia leapt out of Rex's bed as if it were suddenly full of scalding water. "Oh, you little metal trickster," she hissed at Poppi, as she desperately tugged on her boots. "I am gonna wait until Tora isn't looking and then I am gonna disassemble you-"

Malos discretely bumped fists with Poppi, as Nia squeezed past them as quick as she possibly could before more people showed up in Rex's doorway. Then he turned back to Rex, his hands on his hips. "Look, I don't know how you slept through all that shaking, but something is going on. You better get your ass up. There's a lot of people running around outside."

Rex got out of bed, to get dressed as quickly as he could, but not before shutting the door in Poppi's face, who had declined to move and instead just stood there, head cocked to the side, watching curiously, as if she expected Rex to get dressed in front of her.

The group quickly gathered outside, Zeke and Pandy included, Tora still holding a piece of toast slathered in butter in his mouth as he fumbled with the straps of his denim overalls. The plaza was filled with scrambling, panicked petitioners, rushing to and fro in chaos, watched over by the stoic Indoline priests, some screaming in their panic.

Morag's sharp eyes scanned the horizon for signs of panic. What could have caused all that shaking? It hadn't felt like an artillery strike….suddenly, her eyes caught on a familiar pall of black smoke in the sky. She walked forward, her eyes locked on that black stain, following it, leading the group, pushing her way past the panicking petitioners, dodging around buildings, trying to find a vantage point where her view of the Cloud Sea was not blocked by the splendor of Indol's temples.

Finally, she found it. A small ledge from where an unobstructed view of the Cloud Sea could be found. A few of Indol's priests were already milling around it, pointing out into the distance.

There, the source of the black smoke hanging in the sky, was Mor Ardain. The Titan lumbered in the distance, the smoke of her factories leaving a black trail in the sky. The Cloud Sea around it was milling with….uncountable warships, its head crowned as if by hundreds of buzzing wasps, the airship flotilla that attended it. It moved as if with purpose, staggering towards another gray shape in the distance, the massive whale-titan of Uraya.

And suddenly, Morag knew. She knew what this was all about. "Architect's love," she said, only loud enough for Brighid to overhear. "They're doing it. The damned lunatics are doing it."

"Mor Ardain?" Rex said, eyes wide. "But...we were so far from there."

"The Praetor must have moved Indol closer to them," Zeke said, his face grim. He glanced at Morag, who gave him a pale nod. For all his foolishness, Morag thought, Zeke almost certainly knew what this meant. "That was what all that shaking was. He can move Indol rather quickly, when he wants to."

"Rex!" a voice in the crowd cried out. "Morag! Malos! Over here!"

They turned around, to see Fan la Norne working her way through the crowd, waving at them. For once, she was not crowded around by petitioners, who mostly ignored her in their panic. "Please! Please, come, follow me. The Praetor would like to speak to you."

They joined with Fan, making their way through the crowd to the Sanctum. As they were halfway across the plaza, the first sounds of distant artillery guns and bombs roared through the sky like thunder. The crowd screamed, scattering, dropping documents, packages, as the barrage went on and on and on, unceasing, merciless.

"Is that..." Rex asked, his eyes wide, looking up at the grim faces of Zeke, Pandoria, Fan, Malos, Brighid and Morag. Zeke merely closed his one good eye and shook his head, Pandoria burying her face in his arm. Fan looked at Rex with pity, tear tracks staining her face. "Oh Architect. Oh, no. No." His hands shook, and Nia reached out to grab one, not caring who saw.

If the plaza had been busy, the Sanctum was even more so. No petitioners here, but soldiers marching, bureaucrats swarming the halls. Why, Morag wondered, was the Praetorium preparing so much for this? They weren't under attack. Unless they thought Brionac was so rabid, so mad with power, that they'd attack the Praetorium for even appearing near them. Which they may very well be.

Finally, they came to Amalthus' throne room at the heart of the Praetorium. The table that the feast had been laid out on previously was transformed. Now, it lay coated in maps tracking the movements of forces, intelligence reports, and the Praetorium's high command crowded around it. Stoic though Indoline might be, there was a nervous energy even here as they muttered among themselves. Amalthus oversaw it all with calm, standing among them, his eyes currently quickly scanning a report. He put it down as the group entered, nodding to his advisors, and walking over to meet them. "Thank you, Fan," he said, nodding to his blade. His eyes flicked over the group, settling on Morag. "I assume you may have gathered what is going on," he said, retrieving a small slip of paper from his robes. "But early this morning, I received this final communique from your brother. I think it is only right that you see it, as well."

Morag took the slip of paper from Amalthus and unfolded it, quickly scanning over the text. It was short. Brutally so.

_Praetor -_

_I'm sorry._

_I tried to stop them. _

_I'm sorry._

_Architect forgive me my failure._

_-Niall_

Morag's heart broke. "Oh, Niall," she whispered.

"Yes," Amalthus said grimly. "The day we have dreaded has arrived. The Ardainian invasion of Uraya has begun."

**Note**

Alright. This was a very Amalthus-heavy chapter. I had originally planned to introduce him in the last chapter, but ended up concentrating most of his interaction in this chapter alone, which ended up running longer than I had originally planned, as well.

It is hard to recapture the ambiguity of Amalthus from the game. But within this fic, the idea is that who a blade resonates with not only changes the blade, but who a driver resonates with changes the driver, as well. So the ambiguity of Amalthus here is intended to come from that you don't know what he's lying about. Mythra's influence over him could have changed any of the actions he took, post-resonance with her. I will say he didn't do exactly the same things, in this fic, that he did as depicted in TTGC. What he lies about, and what his ultimate aims are, are left to be discovered.

The next chapter is basically going to be the halfway capstone of this fic. I know that this act hasn't been nearly as action-packed or involved as much of a connected plot as act 4 did. It was meant to be a calm before the storm, a slowly building sense of dread as we drew closer to the last chapter of act 5, the material growing darker as the storm approached. Well, the next chapter is going to be the storm. It is hard for me to predict how long a chapter will be before I write it, but just from my notes, and how much is going to happen in it, and how many people it is going to involve, it is going to be a _very _long chapter – probably the longest chapter yet, by far – but I don't want to split it up into multiple chapters, as it tells one fully connected culmination of everything that has happened so far. But since it is going to be so long, it will probably take me a while to write it. Don't expect an update within a week, and it may take longer than two weeks. But the result – again, I predict, because it is hard to say how long a chapter will be before I write it – should be a chapter three times longer, or more, than the typical chapter of this story.

As always, notes and comments are appreciated.


	25. Chapter 25

**Note: This ended up being a very long chapter. It is almost 50k words. It does include extended sections that focus on minor characters, but I can't think of any that don't include important information. I would have to recommend that you read it all. There are also major events that happen in this chapter that you probably don't want to be spoiled on, but I don't want to forbid discussion of them in the comments (I do want to hear people's thoughts! Please, if there is any chapter you make a comment on, make it this one.) So I would recommend avoiding the comments section until you finish reading. I also have a long note at the end in which I discuss spoilers and my thoughts on this fic, so I would recommend not reading my post-chapter notes until you have finished either.**

**This is also your last warning. If you haven't liked some of the darker directions this fic has taken, things get very, very dark in this chapter. Terrible things happen to good people who don't deserve it. There is a war, and I don't think it's appropriate to gloss over the fact that war includes a lot of death. It's not all darkness, though. But if you've thought my other chapters were edgy (though I have never aimed to be edgy just for the sake of being edgy) then this is your warning now. **

**Now, without further ado:**

**THE CLOCKWORK DEMON**

**or**

**IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS**

**TICK**

Crossette sat on the deck of the Monoceros, gazing up into the night sky, twinkling with stars, as it idled in the Cloud Sea, no land in sight. She kicked her legs idly over the side, her boots tapping against the black metal of its hull, then glanced down at Rhys, who was fiddling with a small package at her side, a series of rockets held in an oil-soaked leather bag. "What about this one?" he asked excitedly, holding up a rocket garishly painted pink and blue.

"Nice choice. It's one of my favorites. Give it here." Rhys handed the rocket to Crossette, and she twisted it around, staring at it for a moment. "Gotta make sure it's good," she winked at Rhys. She sniffed it, nodded sagely, then considering, tentatively touched her tongue to it, smacking her lips as if evaluating the taste.

"Will you just light it already!"

Crossette nodded her head, making small noises of approval, as if the rocket had passed muster, then blew a small flame from her mouth to its fuse, and hurled the rocket out over the cloud sea. It fell for a moment, and then, a few feet from disappearing beneath the clouds, zipped upwards with a shriek, and with a loud bang filled the night sky with bring pink and blue sparks, blooming forth to fill their vision.

Rhys' ears perked up as he looked on in wonder, the sparks reflected in his wide green eyes. "Wow! That was a good one. What should we do next? What's the biggest one you got?"

Crossette was about to answer when a hatch further down the deck popped open, and Akhos' head popped up, glancing around the deck. His sharp blue eyes caught sight of them, and narrowed. "You two! I thought we were under attack. We're trying to have a meeting below decks!"

"Ah, sorry, Akhos," Rhys said bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. "It was all my idea to set off some fireworks."

Akhos' sharp gaze softened as he looked at Rhys. Crossette had felt a bit intimidated by him at first, him and Patroka, by how cold they could seem. But they had quickly proven to have a bit of a soft spot for her driver. Akhos would train him when he had the spare time, patiently showing him how to use Crossette's abilities, and Patroka, while she might mock and tease Rhys, would also quietly slip him chocolates when she thought no one was looking, and Crossette had even caught her giving him a hug when he came to her with a nasty burn he had received when fooling around in the ship's engine room. It was Mikhail who Crossette still did not know how to feel about. Mikhail had spoken to her – mostly to try to flirt – but whenever he saw Rhys, his eyes would widen, almost panicked, and he would excuse himself.

"That's alright," Akhos said, with a small smile. "But don't you think you should get some sleep? I hear Patroka is actually planning on giving you some weapons training tomorrow. Architect knows you don't have the hang of Crossette's bitball yet." He nodded to Crossette, and she blushed, smiling a bit bashfully. It wasn't her fault her weapon was a bitball, which was one of the more difficult ones to master, particularly for a child.

"I don't know how in the world you're supposed to bounce that so it comes right back to you," Rhys muttered, standing. "I'm not tired, though."

Akhos smirked. "Yeah. I've heard that one from you before. Which usually means you'll be snoring in twenty minutes. Let's go."

Rhys and Crossette descended into the dark hallways of the Monoceros, walking behind Akhos. "What's the meeting about?" Rhys asked, hiding a yawn.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Akhos replied softly. He looked up at Crossette, and gave her a warm smile. Mythra had told him what had happened to Rhys and his friends. It would be enough to break any child, but Crossette, though Akhos found her a bit silly, did such a good job of just...being there, for him, that he couldn't help but have some affection for her. And Rhys had done a good job of cheering him up, as well, after the loss of Obrona. He...wasn't sure what to think about that. Surely Pyra would not have approved, was she around. She would have told him that his pain was the price of his bond with Obrona, and that new ones were only going to bring him more. And maybe that was true, but in the moment it just felt nice to have a child to look after.

They came to a crossroads in the hallways, where Rhys' bunk was to the right. Akhos took a left, nodding to them as he disappeared down the dark shadows of the hallways. "Goodnight, you two."

Rhys lingered at the hallway for a moment, looking after Akhos, fidgeting. "I know that look," Crossette said sternly. "C'mon, let's just get to bed."

"I wanna know what they're meeting about," Rhys replied, whispering furtively. Crossette sighed as he waited a few moments for Akhos to disappear into one of the rooms further down the hallway, and then began sneaking along the wall, inching towards the room. With a shrug – there was no turning Rhys back from mischief when he set his mind to it – she followed.

Patroka's voice rang out as they neared the entrance to the meeting room, and Rhys paused, putting a finger to his lips, as he pressed himself against the wall. "What I don't understand," Patroka snapped, "Is why you two have to do this alone."

The next voice that rang out was Mythra's. "You three….you've already lost so much," she said, and Crossette shivered. There was something about Mythra that frightened her. Rhys adored her – he would always stare at her, her and Jin, with wide, awe-filled eyes whenever he saw them, and he was forever trying to impress them – he'd always rush to Jin with the biggest fish he caught, or yell for Mythra to watch when he thought he was about to do something particularly cool. Jin was alright – he was a bit impassive, but he'd humor her driver with a sagely, impressed nod whenever Rhys bought him fish. Mythra, though...she treated Rhys kindly, but there was just something...broken in her, whenever she looked at him. She might smile, or offer him kind words, but always there was this hollowness in her eyes when she looked at Rhys, a despair so deep it chilled Crossette to the bone. "You don't need to suffer any more. Your blades..."

"That sounds like all the more reason for us to accompany you," came Mikhail's voice, muttering sullenly. "Jin, you're pushing yourself far too hard."

"She's right," Jin replied, his voice brooking no argument. "The three of you haven't recovered from the loss of your blades. We'd need you at peak shape for this mission, and you aren't. We're doing this alone. Akhos, let's go over the plan."

"Right." There came a shuffling of papers. "The Ardainian Empire has been drawing closer and closer to a full-out invasion of Uraya, particularly ever since the Urayans managed to launch a strike on their capital. The largest pro-war party in Mor Ardain is Brionac, who has both a political branch and a military arm, and is heavily interwoven into the Empire's armies. Well, Mik, Patroka, those artificial blades you destroyed in Bana's factory actually belong to Brionac. As in, they are building their own private army, not loyal to the Emperor. This would be considered treason. You disrupted their production, but they have the rest of the artificial blades in a garrison on Temperantia. If we _expose _this army, destroy it, expose this treason, the Empire finds itself in a situation where it has taken heavy losses, and finds a humongous portion of its remaining armies implicated in a treason plot. This should give their Emperor, who actually favors peace, enormous leverage. Enough, hopefully, to halt the invasion. Now, in addition to the artificial blade armies on Temperantia, there is also a project there to restore and utilize weaponized Titans, unearthed from ancient Judicium."

"Judicium," Mythra murmured. "They could not leave her nightmares dead and buried. Of course. Even my destruction could not stop Mor Ardain from summoning these horrors out of time."

"The artificial blades," Akhos continued, "Are designed as shock infantry. But these weaponized Titans are designed as heavy artillery superweapons. If you can infiltrate and capture even one of these, you can wreak havoc on the artificial blades. Their field operations are headed by a Brionac Colonel named Maxwell, who makes his headquarters within one of these Titans, as well. Capture him, and you can force him to radio a confession. One last thing." Akhos paused, then sighed. "You...will have to be quick. Mor Ardain launches her invasion tomorrow morning."

Mythra gasped, and Crossette winced as there was an explosion of light from somewhere within the meeting room as she lashed out. "Damn them," Mythra cried. "Damn them! So soon? Are they so eager?"

"Enough," Jin's voice cut through. "If it's happening so soon, we'll just have to beat them to it. We have a plan. Pilot the Monoceros for Temperantia at full speed. As _soon _as we arrive, we will disembark. There can be no time for hesitation."

"We should be able to make landfall on Temperantia at 0400 hours," Patroka's voice came, a bit shaky from witnessing Mythra's rage.

"Make it so." Jin paused. "Mythra," he said softly, "We can do this."

Rhys and Crossette scampered away from the door, fleeing down the hallway, to their room, as footsteps approached the doorway, moving as quickly and as quietly as possible.

Their room was a shared one, with bunkbeds – which Rhys thought was very cool, especially since he claimed the top bunk – and a small wardrobe built into the walls of the ship. Crossette didn't mind sharing a room with him now, though she thought it might get a bit awkward as he got older. "What," Rhys said, panting, "Was that all about?"

"I...I dunno," Crossette replied, sitting on her bunk. "It...it sounds like they're trying to stop a war."

"Mythra and Jin? All alone?" Rhys' eyes shone with concern. "They...they need help. I gotta help them."

"Oh, no. I don't think that's a good idea-"

"You heard Mik! He said Jin is already pushing himself too hard! They can't go because they all lost their blades, but I have you!"

"Rhys, if they wanted you to come, I think they would have told you..."

"I have to help them! I _have _to! You don't get it!" Rhys stamped his feet, and suddenly his large green eyes shone with tears. "I have to...after they helped me..."

Crossette felt her heart drop. Rhys was normally fiery, and full of life. But she had learned of his tragic circumstances, since she had been awakened. How he had seen his family killed by bandits, avenged by Jin and Mythra. And...something Mythra had told her one dark night, after Crossette had asked if they might visit Rhys' friends someday. That his friends, that he thought were safe, were actually dead as well. "You see," Mythra had murmured to her, "We really are all he has. And you most of all."

Rhys normally didn't let it show. But she would occasionally find him in some dark corner of the ship, sobbing quietly. And she could feel it through the ether bond they shared, a sadness, a wound in him that never seemed to heal. "Come here," she said quietly, drawing Rhys into an embrace as he furiously tried to conceal his tears.

"I'm fine," he snapped, miserably, but then wrapped his arms around her, his tears hot against her shoulder.

She laid back in her bed as he clung to her, crying, soothing him as best she could. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep in her embrace, and she found herself drifting off as well.

She awoke to a sudden jolt, a crunch, as the Monoceros slid up to the shore of Temperantia. And immediately noticed that Rhys was no longer in her arms.

"Damn it, Rhys," she snapped.

Jin and Mythra stepped out of the loading bay of the Monoceros, onto the shattered, dead earth of Temperantia, in the dim light of the early morning. Their feet crunched on dry gravel and gray sand as they stepped forward, into a land of blackened, burnt rock, centuries dead. As they walked forward, they did not notice as behind them, a small shadow darted out of the Monoceros to hide behind another rock, followed by another shadow in hot pursuit of the first.

Mythra looked around herself as she moved forward. This...cracked and ruined land was her doing. Five hundred years ago, before Malos had been awakened to stop her, she had come to Temperantia, then home to Judicium. It had been an empire of what was now known as the Indoline people, though….different, she knew. Where the Indoline were uniformly blue, the Judicium had had scales and skin of all colors and hues. It had been a colorful land, of towering, garishly painted spires. Dragon-worshippers, much like Indol now, though….their worship had been different than Indol. Their religion was a think of howling dances and stone altars deep in thickly wooded forests, a much more primal thing than the quiet, civilized version Amalthus fostered in Indol now.

And she had come here, and burned it all away.

This was back when Amalthus still had his fingers laced around her heart. When he had first awoken her...before he bought her first to Coeia...he had taught her of the long histories of the nations of the world. She could remember, when he had first awoken her, when she had loved him so, seen of him a man noble and wise, staying up with him long nights within his office in the Praetorium, discussing history and philosophy. And she could remember feeling, burning through his ether bond with her, as they spoke of the wars and the horrors of history, the...overpowering ugliness he saw in it all, the darkness he saw flowing forth from the pages of history…

She had loved him, and she had a burning sense of justice. She had wanted to make the world beautiful for him. Make it just and right. Help him finally see the good in it, buried beneath all the dark. Though it seemed so alien to her now, she had wanted nothing more than to build a world in which Amalthus could be happy. Little had she understood the madness that lurked in his heart. And so the horror of her judgment had been visited upon Judicium. How blind she had been. Judicium was no Mor Ardain – they had not been a nightmare of flame and war, marching forward endlessly as even the daughter of the Architect did her best to stop them. They were just another kingdom, one of many, though advanced in blade and Titan technologies. The suffering she had caused, the suffering she had been blind to...she was wiser now. Now, she knew exactly what she did. She knew exactly what she had done. Though the knowledge was agony, she would never give it up. It beat down on her, the memory of what she had done here, and she deserved it.

"Mythra?" Jin asked quietly. Mythra looked at him, giving him a broken smile. This sweet man, too. His country had burned for her as well. How had he found it in his heart, his beautiful heart, to forgive her for what could never be forgiven? It was too much to bear. The pain she knew he lived with. Just one note in the constant wail, the endless, oppressive chorus of suffering in this world. Oh, damned Father, it had to end. It all had to end. "_Mythra."_

"Sorry," she murmured. "Just...memories."

Jin's gave her a steady, impassive look. "I can do this alone, if you-"

"No," Mythra whispered. She could not let Jin do this alone. Mikhail had been right. Jin had been pushing himself far too hard lately. On Mythra's account, of course. Trying to stop this war. Well, they had their best shot now. "No, it's fine. Let's go."

They made their way up a long, sharp peak, jutting into the sky like a massive, jagged tooth, black and pitted, loose sand tumbling around them as they made their way upwards, towards the brightening sky. At the top, they had a view of the long, endless plains of Temperantia, the desert of gray dust and black rock.

Arrayed in the desert, in endless perfect rows, were the artificial blades of the Temperantian garrison. Sunlight glinting off their and gold armor, sleek and deadly, with long, spindly limbs and a narrow, v-shaped chest, with dark orange wings that flickered in the early morning light, they looked like nothing more than slumbering insects, deadly wasps that would awake to the war with relish.

And there, across the plains, the Cloud Sea was visible, and out in the distance was the Ardainian Titan. And it was beginning to stir, the black fleets of her war machine beginning to buzz with life. They did not have much time.

They leapt down nimbly from the peak. Down the other side was a massive excavation pit, its walls clawed from the stone with dynamite, and within the pit were two of the massive weaponized Titans of ancient, dead Judicium. They were gargantuan things, hundreds of feet tall, like beasts of burden, hooves that could flatten houses, massive curved horns jutting from their torsos. What was perhaps most disturbing was that there was no visible head. Instead, gleaming metal was built into their bodies, woven so skillfully that it was difficult to tell where technology ended and Titan began. And among the excavation site were patrolling Ardainian soldiers, vigilant even in the early dawn.

They raced across the top of the excavation site, keeping to the shadows, staying low, ducking behind outcroppings of scorched rock whenever possible, working their way over to the larger of the two Judicium Titans, until they stood on an outcropping that loomed perhaps twenty feet over the deck of black iron built into the Titan's back. This part, at least, had to be an Ardainian outfitting.

Jin took a deep breath, and suddenly, with a flicker, he disappeared from the outcropping, and appeared on the deck, his sword lashing out like silver death, cutting down the guards there before they could raise a cry.

Mythra kept an eye on the Ardainian patrols below, and then at an opportune moment, leapt down to join him. She landed gracefully, just as Jin finished dispatching the last Ardainian. Mythra could feel Pyra's roaring disapproval within her, as she always could whenever she engaged in violence. But….it seemed strange to think of herself as disagreeing with Pyra. It was, after all, like disagreeing with herself. But Pyra had summoned her, after all, broken her seal, because she needed to protect Jin, and she wasn't strong enough to commit the violence necessary herself. Pyra didn't understand that some suffering to prevent more suffering was justified.

Jin gave her a small smile. "This is going smoothly," he whispered.

"I know," Mythra replied, a genuine smile touching her lips. This _was _going very well. For the first time in a long time, she had hope. Hope that they could stop this madness, stop this war, stop this suffering. They had struggled against the invincible Ardainian Empire and her endless capacity for industry, but this...this just might work. "Let's be quick, though. You begin piloting this thing. I'll go find this Colonel Maxwell."

Jin nodded, and then turned towards the odd command console in the center of the deck, as Mythra disappeared into a large black door that led into the Titan's interior. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't this. The command console had no switches, no buttons, no levers. Instead, it had a strange, pulsing green crystal implanted into the Titan's skin, with a curling tangle of thick wires running from it.

He reached out to touch the crystal, and gasped. His mind was filled with dim, primitive thoughts, dull memories of an ancient kingdom with tiny, sharp-toothed inhabitants who had pinned down his massive bulk with hook and chain, who had sliced him, their clever, tiny fingers working metal and wire painfully into his hide. Memories of an explosion of light, and then being buried in earth for a very, very long time, slumbering peacefully, the implements in his side an ever-constant, dull ache during his long imprisonment...and then, daylight again, when these new tiny men with black armor and mad, burning eyes dug him up.

Jin shook his head as he drew his hand back from the crystal. It was..._almost _ like an ether bond. But it offered more control, more direct access to the beast's thoughts and memories. And emotions. The beast, despite all its suffering, did not really feel anger. More like an annoyed resignation. Jin grasped the crystal again, feeling out the beast's form with his mind, feeling the cannons, the weapons woven into its form. And then, he seized control.

With a massive, earth-shaking step, the Titan lurched forward, sending the Ardainians patrolling the excavation site stumbling and falling to the ground. They got to their feet, shouting, and then began screaming and running in fear as cannons built into the Titan's side spit burning light at them, turning the ground to flame and molten glass, as it thundered forward.

Many weapons were built into the Titan's hide, enough to turn the world around it to flame and ruin. As Jin advanced it forth out of the excavation site, its main cannons lanced out to strike among the assembled legions of artificial blades, tearing through them, sending them burning and flying. They began to rise, then, as a great swarm, but the Titan's energy weapons chewed through them, sizzling, fiery light. Jin did not know if they were controlled by humans, or if they had their own sort of primitive intelligence, but the swarms began to break and scatter as light pelted among them, hundreds destroyed with every fiery sweep of the Titan's weapons over them, turning them into piles of melted slag on the ground.

Jin smiled grimly. They were just artificial blades. If there was a way to stop this way while avoiding the greatest loss of life, this was it.

Colonel Maxwell awoke with a curse in his quarters inside the Judicium Titan as it lurched to life, sending him sliding out of the small cot he called his bed. "What the hell," he snapped, pulling on his boots and struggling to his feet, shrugging on his coat and cap. He was an old for a military man, his body worn and thin, dark eyes that had seen decades of war peering out from a skull-like face grizzled with gray stubble. Though he was Brionac, he was not particularly dedicated to it. To Maxwell, war simply was. He had lived with it for so long that it just seemed natural to join with Brionac when they had begun gaining influence. War was the way of the world. Might as well go with the party that acknowledged it.

He scratched his stubbled chin thoughtfully as the Titan lurched again. None of his men would be so lacking in discipline as to fumble with the controls of the Titan. Maybe some sort of malfunction…? Then his eyes grew wide as he heard the explosions, the screams of his men. This was no malfunction. This was an attack.

He leapt for the radio that he kept in his quarters and it flickered to life as he powered it on, tuning the frequency to the emergency communications channel. "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, this is Colonel Maxwell of the Temperantian garrison, we are under attack, repeat, we are under attack by unknown forces, strength and composition currently unknown, they have control of -"

He dropped the transmitter with a curse as the door to his quarters blew open in a flash of light, dodging the metal door as it was ripped from its hinges, grabbing up a shotgun as he did so. With a grim snarl, he aimed it at the woman standing there, a beautiful woman of long, flowing blonde hair, flashing golden eyes, in a short white dress woven through with glowing green stone, holding a sword of burning light, a triumphant smile written on her features. The shotgun roared, only for its blast to bounce uselessly off an ether shield. Maxwell cursed again, casting his eyes about for the ether-penetrating shot he kept stored, but before he could move, the woman stepped forward and grabbed the shotgun from his hand, crumpling it in her grip like it was paper. "Colonel Maxwell, I presume," she said, tossing it aside.

Maxwell eyed the ruined shotgun now lying on the floor, then squared his shoulders, casting a canny eye upon her. "That's right," he snapped. "And I don't know who you are, but Mor Ardain's vengeance is long. You will suffer dear for this-"

But Mythra was shaking her head, smiling, eyes full of light. "It's over," she whispered. "It's over. Your treason is exposed, Maxwell. Yours and that of Brionac. And your forces here, destroyed. You will get on that radio, and confess your crimes to your Emperor and the world. You will not be getting the war you so dearly wish for."

Maxwell stared at her for a moment. Then, slowly, he began to chuckle. Mythra narrowed her eyes, curiously, and then stepped back as his laughter grew, his mocking, rasping laughter, a wracking, damned laugh, and his eyes burned with wicked mirth, the silver skull in his cap burning bright, seeming to laugh along with him, and in his laughter Mythra heard the roar of bombs, the crack of gunfire, the rumbling treads of tanks, the screams of dying men, as if the Clockwork Demon itself reached down to speak through this man's voice. The shadows in the room lengthened, and to her eyes, it seemed as if Maxwell _was _the Clockwork Demon, that awful construct of gear and flame, the God of War Mor Ardain had built through centuries of blood and violence, the God speaking through one of his servants, mocking her with such malice that it left her breathless, cruelty to make even her Father weep. He spoke, his voice the roar of thousand rockets, and in his voice she heard the death of her hope, and marveled that this God of Man might make one such as her, daughter of the Architect, feel such despair. "Idiot," he laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes, shaking his head. "Oh, tell the Emperor. Stop the war. You're too late, you stupid fool. You're far too late for that." He slapped the desk, the dark laughter bubbling out of him once more. "None of what you did mattered. _None of it matters. _Do you understand? Nothing can stop us now. _Nothing. _The Emperor is nothing to us. We will conquer Uraya, and then the world, _and nothing you did even came close to stopping us._ Kill me if you want. I want you to understand that. It was always hopeless for you. I want you to know that before my Empire comes to put you in your grave. I want you to die knowing that you were always powerless to stop us." He roared with laughter, advancing towards Mythra as she backed away in terror, seeing the Clockwork Demon bear down on her, teeth dripping molten iron, eyes flashing bomb and flame and horror and all the sins of the Empire, the triumphant expression on her face shattering. "We will have victory. We will have triumph. I can die happy, knowing that. _We will win. Alrest is ours._ So come on, fool, naive fool girl!" His eyes flicked towards his desk as she backed away, where he kept a dagger. With one swift movement he snatched it, and leapt for her, still roaring laughter. "FOR MOR ARDAIN!"

Mythra shouted, lashing out with her blade, and Maxwell died with his mocking laughter ringing in her ears.

Jin stepped back from the command console, removing his hand from the crystal, staring with grim satisfaction at the destruction before him.

The Judicium Titan was paused now in the middle of the Temperantian fields. Before him stretched a great field of flame and burning metal, great piles of the artificial blades reduced to melted heaps, those that had not been ruined in the destruction disappearing as they flew off over the horizon. His eyes flicked upwards, out to Mor Ardain, out over the Cloud Sea. It had begun to move, begun to thunder its way towards Uraya. News should reach them of the events here soon, though. He hoped it would be enough to stop him.

He spun around, suddenly, as the door to the Titan's interior slammed open. It was Mythra. But….where she had descended into those depths with hope, now there was nothing. She was broken, walking forward numbly, her eyes fixated on Mor Ardain. "...What happened?" he asked, sharply.

She merely continued walking forward, never taking her eyes from the Ardainian Titan. "It's too late," she murmured, almost seeming hypnotized by the sight before her. "There was never any hope. It's happening. It's happening, and we never could have stopped it." A tear ran down her face, and finally, she turned her head to look at Jin, a frantic desperation in her eyes. "What...what do we do now?" she asked, and he had never heard her sound so lost.

The first artillery strikes from Mor Ardain echoed across the Cloud Sea.

**TOCK**

Niall finished tapping out his final communique to the Praetor, setting the odd device for transmitting bursts of code beneath a dome of crystal glass. Truth be told, he might have spoken Amalthus face to face, or through radio communication. But there was something about the Praetor that always unsettled him, and he needed all the courage he could muster for what he was going to try to do now.

Attempting to delay Brionac and their invasion plans through political means had been a grave miscalculation. Niall had hoped that, even after the coup, enough of his authority still existed, enough of the organs of his republic still functioned, that he might still be able to throw a wrench or two in their plans. The past weeks had rudely disabused him of that notion. The junta quickly made it clear who was in charge now. The broken remains of the Senate had been dissolved under their emergency war powers. Niall had wondered why they had even bothered, at first – what was left was solidly pro-Brionac, and even the few non-Brionac senators who remained had been swayed to favoring an invasion, believing their lies about an attack on the capital. It was, he had realized after some time, their signature ruthlessness. Leave no hope of reconciliation, leave no hope of escape, leave not even a shred of resistance. Leave not even the tiniest possibility that the war might be avoided. The dissolution of the Senate had met with no resistance, after all. All agreed that it was best for Mor Ardain to be steered by her Supreme Command during a time of war, and besides, a new election would have to be called to replace the dead Senators, and was the middle of a war such a good time to call such an election? They said elections would be held at some point in the future, and Niall believed them. They'd be held when they could ensure that absolutely every candidate for election was a Brionac agent.

Once in total control, the Supreme Command had moved forward with their preparations at frightening speed. They recalled soldiers from outposts and colonies with frightening speed, recalling, as well, the greater portion of Mor Ardain's naval and airship armadas from around the world. In the past few weeks, legion upon legion of battle hardened veteran had marched into Alba Cavanich, and her skies and waters had darkened with hundreds of glittering black ships. It seemed now as if Niall could barely ever see the sun, for all the airships patrolling the skies. Brionac, it seemed, was going to be as ruthless with Uraya as they had been in securing their control in Mor Ardain. Grinding them to dust beneath the greatest part of Mor Ardain's military might. The battle plan was to use their control over the Ardainian Titan's nervous system to grapple with Uraya itself – the Urayans, not having any means of controlling their Titan, could not escape them. The ground invasion would then travel down the land bridge formed by Mor Ardain's arm and pour into Uraya itself – delivering far more soldiers far more quickly than could arrive via airship or naval forces.

No, trying to stop Brionac through conventional means had always been a fool's hope. They controlled all of Mor Ardain now, and they were very certain to ensure that Niall had no access to radio broadcast, or any way to speak to the public - "still recovering from the attack," they reported, as they kept him virtually locked within his own throne room. Though it was not as if his unconventional means had done any better. Sylvie had served him as a spy against Brionac for some time, but then had suddenly disappeared, shortly before the Senate itself was dissolved – and she was, Niall thought grimly, almost certainly dead. No reports had come in about her whereabouts – according to state reports, she was at her home residence – but he had not seen her in weeks now, and her frequent, detailed reports had stopped coming in. No, there was no point in holding out hope for her. She had fallen victim to her former comrades. Niall quickly wiped a tear away from his eye as he drew a shaky breath.

He glanced around the golden splendor of the Imperial seat of power. His bodyguard, handpicked from the calvalry for their loyalty to the office of Emperor by Morag, had been whittled down as well. These men were more than willing to accept any order from him, not just serving as his bodyguards, but his spies and informants. But they were not trained for spyrcraft, and their fatality rate was much higher than any group of soldiers that might serve on the front lines. After the first death, a young man shot and killed, his body dumped in Mor Ardain's sewers, after Niall had asked him to gather information on the activities of the Supreme Command, Niall had immediately stopped giving them orders to spy. But, damn loyal fools they were, they took his orders with a wink and a nod, and continued to do so, offering him reports on things they "just so happened to overhear." And in the process, fully half of them had paid with their lives over the course of weeks. Cavalry they may be, but the soldiers loyal to the Supreme Command were no less battle-hardened. In fact, they may be more so. Niall could fault Brionac for many things, but never for cowardice. Many of their most ardent supporters were Mor Ardain's most battle-hardened veterans.

But it was thanks to these reports that Niall could take the final, desperate measure that he could take now. He had learned that, for all that the Supreme Command met with little resistance when it came to their power, the public was clamoring to see their Emperor. Today there was to be a series of speeches, a gathering of troops, before the invasion was to be initiated. Brionac planned to have him there. No doubt, by springing the announcement on him at the last moment, they hoped the Child-Emperor would be unsettled and unprepared enough that they could keep him under control. But Niall had known of their plan for close to a week now, and had prepared his last, desperate gambit. A speech, to be made to the public, a final plea, a begging from the Emperor himself, to stop this madness, to see reason. Brionac would not dare seize the microphone from him in public, not once he had the crowd's attention. He was still Emperor, still respected, though Architect knew for all his failures he deserved none of that respect. Niall had worked on this speech harder than any he ever had in his life. He wished, dearly wished that he had the innate authority, the intense charisma of Amalthus. Had he the Praetor's skill and silver tongue, he might be more hopeful. As it was, he could only do all he could, his one last desperate gambit to save his people, his one chance at redemption.

He walked to his grand desk, polished white wood lacquered gold, and retrieved his sheaf of papers with the speech written on it. He had committed it to memory, as well. It was not a long speech – it would last perhaps twenty minutes, he could not risk longer than that. It would be a terrifying prospect. He would be surrounded by the Supreme Command of Brionac, entirely within their power, these men who had tried to kill him, pleading with the crowd of Mor Ardain's citizens to disobey them, to end the war they so dared to commit treason so they might have it.

He turned around, facing the entrance of his throne room, the grand door flanked by two of the remaining members of his bodyguard. They smiled roguishly at him, tipping him a half-salute. It was the Cavalry way, Niall had come to realize over the course of his few weeks with them. Absolute loyalty to the Emperor they may have. But, uncharacteristic for Ardainians, they were rather casual about that loyalty. These men, and their unit, deserved all the honors the Empire could bestow upon them for their service. These men-

And it all happened so quickly.

The throne room doors burst open, revealing a grim-faced Brionac colonel and two of his attendant soldiers, black trenchcoat fluttering around him, burnished silver skulls standing out against all that black like blasphemy. There was no pause, no hesitation in his movements. As Niall's bodyguard was still spinning around to see who it was who had entered the throne room, he raised a pistol, and with a bone-chilling lack of emotion, executed one of them with two quick shots to the head. The gunshots rang out like thunder across the throne room. The other member of Niall's bodyguard almost had time to raise his weapon before the Brionac soldiers attending the colonel raised rifles of their own and fired. He was dead before he hit the ground.

"No!" Niall had time to shout, scrambling backwards, before the colonel strode across the room and seized him roughly by the arm. Niall closed his eyes as he was dragged, roughly, across the throne room, not wanting to look at the bodies of the men who had died for him as he passed them by. _I should look, _he thought to himself. _I should know the men I forced to die for a hopeless cause._ But he could not bring himself to.

Outside of the throne room doors were yet more members of his bodyguard, bruised, beaten, tied and gagged, not shot, Niall realized, only because to do so would have spoiled the chance Brionac had of surprising him within the throne room.

And, worse yet, there stood three members of the Ardainian Supreme Command. All of them were dressed in their full battle regalia. They would, after all, be participating in the invasion today. Again, Brionac could never be faulted for cowardice. Just as Mor Ardain's Emperors were expected to serve on the front lines – though certainly they would not let Niall - so too were members of their high command. And these men would never shirk their duty. They were Ardainian through and through.

The first was Supreme Commander Maclair. He was the man who had delivered the thinly veiled demand for surrender to Niall, the night of his attempted assassination. He was chief of Mor Ardain's convoluted system of spycraft and subterfuge. If there was one man who had directly planned his assassination, Niall thought, it was most certainly Maclair. How it must have galled him to see it fail. His battle regalia was simple, not much more than the typical Brionac officer's long black trenchcoat and black military cap. But whereas the typical Brionac symbol was a burnished silver skull, Maclair had snake's heads, baring their fangs, emblazoned on his pauldrons and his cap, and their long, curling bodies, depicted in gleaming silver thread, embroidered into his uniform. The snake was the animal symbol of Mor Ardain's more shadowy military elements, after all. He nodded to the colonel who had dragged Niall out, and then reached out and snatched the speech that Niall still had held in his hands from him. He shuffled through it, scanning it quickly, and then raised an eyebrow at Niall. "Really now, child," he scoffed, a condescending smirk crossing his features. That was what he was to them, now, Niall supposed. Not Emperor. Just a child to be controlled. With quick movements, he tore the speech to pieces, small scraps of paper that fluttered down to the ground.

Niall watched this, swallowing, then nodded towards his captured and beaten bodyguard. "Please. I ask only that you spare them. I-"

"You're looking at dead men already, boy," growled a voice worn rough from years of inhaling Mor Ardain's factory smoke. This was Supreme Commander Nelson, who would be leading the ground invasion personally, leading the ground forces down the path of Mor Ardain's arm onto Urayan soil. His regalia was the thick, dark plate of Mor Ardain's soldiers, though considerably more ornate, and his helmet, unlike the common soldier's helmet, was carved intricately into the image of a snarling wolf. Nelson's eyes glared out at him from the shadows of its wide, toothy jaw. That voice had been the one that had assumed control of the radio stations the night he had been shot, the first to begin peddling Brionac's lies to the public. "They just don't know it yet."

"Enough, Nelson." This was Supreme Commander Casey, ultimate authority over Mor Ardain's airship flotillas. His face was not so drawn, so gaunt as Maclair's, and he had less of the bloodthirstiness about him that Nelson had. He was somewhat aged, somewhat regal, almost, silver hair topping a well-worn face, cold blue eyes that had some life to them beyond the hard, flat stares most Brionac officers had. But then again, Casey had not been Brionac all his life. There had been, in fact, a point when he had been one of the key allies holding back their influence, so long ago, in Niall's father's lifetime. But that had been years ago. His battle regalia was a long black coat decorated with silver razor wings, his cloak clasped in place by a carved, screaming eagle. His cloak itself was layered, as if made of black feathers, that slowly transitioned to silver the closer the cloak got to the ground.

"So...you will spare them?" Niall asked, addressing himself to Casey. If there were any of the Brionac command who might have mercy about them, it was him.

"No," Casey replied softly. "You have made their deaths an inevitability. Maclair, take care of him."

"No!" Niall cried, struggling against the iron grip he was held in. He could at least do this, he could at least save these men who had served him so faithfully. "I can-" Suddenly, there was a sharp, stabbing pain in his arm. He glanced down to see a needle sticking into his arm, held by Maclair. As he watched, the Commander pushed down on the plunger, and he could immediately feel its contents flooding into his bloodstream, coursing through his veins like a cloud of fire. "What…?"

And suddenly, the world warped around him. Sound slowed down, the voices around him became deep, low, as if time had slowed down. His vision blurred, the men around him looming dozens, hundreds of feet tall. "What...what have you done to..." he muttered, his voice slurring, barely able to speak. He looked up at Maclair, and gasped. Where the Supreme Commander had once been, there was now a great, coiling cobra, gleaming silver, burning with blue fire, baring fangs dripping with poison at him.

"That should last him through the sendoff," The Snake said, its voice a sibilant hiss.

"Pity we couldn't off him when we had the chance," came another voice, somewhere halfway between a growl and a roar. Niall swiveled his head to see a humongous, monstrous wolf, slavering jaws, its fur deep black, as if made of shadow itself, crazed bloodthirst in its eyes. "Wouldn't have to go through this bullshit if it weren't for Morag and those damned 'dignitaries' she bought in with her. Frankly, don't know why we don't just off him now." The Wolf gave him a manic, toothy grin, as if itching to leap forward and tear out his throat. Niall gasped and recoiled, shaking with fear.

"Because the public is expecting him, and we would not have a good explanation for his death." Niall rubbed his eyes. The third voice came from a great, dark eagle blotting out the sun. It was….somehow, it was soaring high above them, large enough to make of the sun nothing but a bright burning halo, and yet….at the same time, it was here on the ground with them. Niall did not understand, his thoughts in a fog, as if moving through a dream. It should not be possible, and yet it was. The shadows of the eagle shifted, and one great burning, silver eye within that silhouette against the sun opened to pierce to his very soul. "Can he understand us?"

"Does it really matter at this point, if he can?" the Snake replied, glaring malignantly at the Eagle.

"I suppose not." The Eagle shifted, to speak to a series of dark, flickering shadows behind him. "Execute them. And then clean up. Give them….the honors they deserve. Bury them in a veteran's cemetery."

"No..." Niall tried to force out. There was something, something important about what the Eagle was saying. But he just couldn't remember, couldn't hold on to the thoughts in his head. They all blurred together, melted into one another, nothing quite made sense. The Snake coiled its gleaming silver scales around him, and suddenly he found himself being dragged down the palace hallway, the Wolf on his right, the Eagle on his left, and from behind him came a sudden, muted thunder, but he already had forgotten what it meant.

Down, down the dark, winding labyrinth of the palace hallways the Snake, Wolf and Eagle dragged him, and Niall's mind filled with visions. Some hallways, it seemed to him, were engulfed in roaring flames and filled with smoke. Others were full of of ghosts, all the dead Senators executed by Brionac. Sylvie was there, desperately reaching out towards him, her eyes full of regret, shouting something at him, but whatever it was, he could not hear. Along the hallways, decorated with the pictures and portraits of former Emperors, they lived and moved within their portraits, cursing him for his weakness, for his failures. Only one looked upon him with sad, sympathetic eyes – the portrait of Emperor Hugo, from the Aegis War so long ago.

Finally, he was thrust out into burning bright sunlight, so bright it stabbed into his eyes, causing him to wince. He held up a hand against the light, and as his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized he was atop a humongous black stage, upon which rested a monolithic black podium. Behind him, fluttering in the breeze, was an enormous red flag, seeming almost impossibly tall, seeming to swallow the sky in crimson, the golden seal of Mor Ardain stamped into it. Above him, in the smoke blotted sky, hundreds of airships, angels of death, and before him, the assembled legions of Mor Ardain, stretching endlessly in either direction, disappearing into the distance, a million golems of ticking gears, and a humongous, howling, howling mass, like buzzing insects, sharp toothed beasts, cheering the soldiers, cheering for him, flames dancing among them, though they didn't notice it licking at them, charring them, their eyes a thousand thousand twin beacons of madness, and the music that attended them, the throbbing pound of war drums, the blare of trumpets -

Niall reached out, weakly, for the podium. There was something he had to do, he was sure of it, something he desperately needed to do, he had to find the beauty in these howling monsters, it was all he _could _do, he had to find the good in them buried beneath the weight of blood and war and madness. And it was there, he was sure of it, oh Architect, please, please let it still be there. But he was seated firmly in a seat behind the podium by force, and he was too weak, to confused to will himself to stand.

The Eagle, still a silhouette, still simultaneously somehow blotting out the sun and on the ground at the same time, glided to the podium, and raised a...hand? Wing? Shadow? Niall held his hands to his head. It was all a blurry dream, a horrific nightmare – and waited for the crowd of howling monsters to stop. "Yes, citizens," he spoke, finally, "Your Emperor has come to see off this, this most historic of Armies, this most pivotal of invasions. He must refrain from speaking – he still suffers gravely, his wounds from the Urayan strike upon the palace…"

His words became a low buzz, flowing through Niall's memory like water through a sieve. He looked down from the stage, down upon the gathered armies of Mor Ardain, humongous tanks like trundling black beetles, the men hollow, ticking things, airships docked off the shoulder of Mor Ardain like black holes in the sky, and he damned himself, damned himself for letting it become like this. One truck in particular caught his eye, for it glowed with a hellish light, as if contained within was a gate to damnation itself, the final seal of doom. He watched with a dull concern as it was loaded into one of the docked airships, swallowed by a black hole, and he tried, he tried to marshal his thoughts. "Need...to stop..." he muttered, but it was no use. No one was listening, and his mind could not hold on to the memory. _One last thing you were too weak to stop, _a voice within him said.

He turned his attention back to the podium. Procession of beast after snarling beast walked up to it now to harangue the crowd, shades with eyes glowing with the lights of hell, grotesquely deformed demons, all of them full of an awful dynamism, a crackling electricity, all the strength, the energy, that he wished he had, their words blurring into each other…

"History is ours for the taking..."

"..earth will tremble beneath the march of our feet..."

"...proclaim our rightful place as leaders of Alrest..."

And finally, after this march of ghouls, the Snake, the Eagle, and the Wolf stepped forth to the podium. And before Niall's eyes, they blurred, they merged together into a great three-headed Beast. And when they opened their mouths, no speech came, instead came music, in some language he could not understand, low, long, and sweet, droning on and on, a tune that carried with it an infectious life of its own. And soon the demons behind the Beast were joining in the chorus, and then the ticking clockwork soldiers, and then the crowd of jubilant, burning monsters, until it seemed all of Mor Ardain rang with the song, that it lifted from every throat. And the worst of it was, Niall realized, was that it was a beautiful song. For in some way he could not quite grasp, it was a song of love. Love reflected through a dark mirror, but love nonetheless. Love and fear and hope and honor, all twisted and knotted up and wrong, and Niall's heart sang with the tragedy of it all.

By the time the speeches had ended, and Maclair, Nelson and Casey were dragging Niall back to his throne room, the drugs had worn off somewhat. It was still somewhat hard to think, but the visions had stopped, and he could see the world clearly once more. No longer were the winding hallways of the palace unfamiliar to him, no more were they full of flame and ghosts. As they approached the throne room, Niall looked with horror upon the bloodstains where formerly there had been the tied and captured members of his bodyguard, and choked back a sob.

As the Supreme Commanders roughly shoved him into his throne room, and he fell, stumbling, defiance rose within him, despite the lingering effects of his drugs. "How," he said, righting himself, drawing himself up, fixing the three with what he hoped was a steely gaze, "How? How do you justify this bloodiness, this treason, to yourselves?"

The Supreme Commanders stared at him with some surprise.

Nelson was the first to step forward and speak, his eyes flashing fury, the wolf's head he wore seeming to roar his words. "Treason, boy? As if you sheltered nobles know the meaning of the word. What do you know of Mor Ardain, who only the soldiers and workers of Mor Ardain know? I clawed my way up, sick, weak _child, _from the streets and gutters of this country. I worked for a living, I fought for a living, for decades to get where I am now. I have more of Mor Ardain flowing in my veins than you could ever hope to have, you spoiled brat. And you speak to me of treason? You _dare?_" He clenched his fists, and Niall could tell Nelson desperately wanted to step forward and strike him. Niall did his best to show no fear.

"Nelson," Casey snapped, his tone brooking no argument. Nelson glared at the airship commander, his fists still clenched, and then snarled, spitting on the throne room floor. With one final look of contempt for Niall, he strode out of the throne room, to go lead the ground invasion, to go meet his destiny.

There was a moment of silence, and then Maclair, Maclair the Snake, Maclair the Shadow, Maclair the assassin and murderer, spoke next. Niall had always considered him one of the worst Brionac had to offer, and was surprised to see the sadness in his eyes. "I made a choice….long ago," Maclair mused, "That victory should come at any cost." He shrugged, giving a bitter smile. "It is too late for me to consider whether or not it was the wrong one."

He left the throne room in silence, his footsteps barely making a sound on the hard stone flooring. And Niall was left alone with Supreme Commander Casey.

Niall still had dim memories of the day Casey had switched his loyalties, had declared his support for Brionac, which Niall's father had opposed. It was, in retrospect, one of the darkest days in Mor Ardain's long, bloody history, a day that had led inexorably to this. Casey had just returned from putting a final end to the Gormotti rebellions, and was considered a war hero of the highest order. And what was more, he had ended the rebellions with not just warfare, but cunning and diplomacy, brokering an ironclad alliance between the remaining Gormotti tribes and the Ardainian Empire. Niall's father had considered him a personal friend, and even had hopes that with a war hero such as Casey on his side, the burgeoning influence of Brionac might be curbed. But Casey had not come to visit them. They instead heard of his declaration of support for Brionac in the news. The declaration had cast a pall over the royal palace, and Niall could still remember his father's words upon hearing the news: "Those bastards have taken the best of us." More than any other event, it had solidified Brionac's power in Mor Ardain. Ever since, fighting them had been a losing battle. "So, Casey?" Niall said quietly. "What say you? For what was all this madness worth it?"

To his surprise, Casey sighed wearily, looking down at the ground. "I...always admired you, you know," the Supreme Commander said, bitterness flashing across his stern, worn features. "Even when you were very young. I always told your father, you were a special child. There is something in you, Niall. Something that sees the dimming light in this country. Something that brings out the best in us. When you were young, I had high hopes for your ascension. I thought...surely, if there is someone who can take us off the dark path we tread, it is this boy. And then to see you struggle so much, with all you had, to hold back the tides of war. How noble you are, Niall. An Emperor, in the truest sense of the word. If things had been different, had history taken a different course, I would have been your most steadfast ally." He raised his head to meet Niall's confused stare, his eyes glimmering. Niall realized with shock that this man of war, this hard man, was struggling to contain his passions. "When I look at you, I still see all that Mor Ardain could have been."

"But...then why?" Niall asked, still shocked. "Why...why did you declare support for Brionac? Why did you aid them? Damn you, Casey, it might have been different!" Niall's heart twisted, when he realized the depth of truth in that statement. It really might have been different, with Casey on his side. The weight of all that might have been was too much to bear.

"Because," Casey replied quietly, "Though Brionac may be the worst of us, they are right. The only hope for this world without new Titans being born is administration under the hands of Mor Ardain, to preserve resources, distribute food, ration, and prepare for the long, dark centuries ahead, until we can discover what it is that is causing their disappearance. And loathsome as they are, Niall, you have to deal with the circumstances history gives you. Please understand." A note of pleading entered Casey's voice. It was subtle, but it was there. Casey was begging him to see. "Mor Ardain could not both break Brionac's power and wage the necessary wars. So yes. I supported Brionac, because it was necessary. I will put the world in chains and hand the lead to them, because it really is the only way. I wish it was not so, but wishes don't save the world. I hope that one day, far into the future, their power is broken. I hope history spits upon my name as a criminal and a traitor, one day. As long as there is still a world to have a history to do so. I hope you are remembered as the hero you are, for trying so valiantly to stop it all."

And here, Casey spun on his heels, and made for the throne room doors.

"Richard."

Casey stopped at the mention of his first name, turning around slowly.

Niall stood, looking as regal as he ever did, sunlight casting a halo about him. But his face was wracked with a deep, awful sadness, a sadness that should never be on the face of a child, and his face shone with tears. "Richard," Niall said, desperate, pleading. "Please. It doesn't have to be like this." He shook his head, catching his breath against the sobs that escaped his throat, and looked up again, his eyes full of the last light of hope and good to be found in Mor Ardain, his voice full of utter certainty. "It doesn't have to be like this!"

Casey paused at the doorway for a moment, and Niall didn't know if it was the final, lingering effects of the drugs in his system. But it seemed as if he could suddenly see all the war Casey had seen, surrounding him, the roar of gunfire, the scream of rockets, the world-shattering bombs, a thousand airships soaring above his head, countless soldiers and tanks surrounding him, the ghosts of Mor Ardain's wars, all the men Casey had ever seen sacrifice and die for their country.

"Yes, it does," Supreme Commander Richard Casey, Eagle of the Empire, said quietly, looking at the man he might have called Emperor in another life. "It's too late. It was always too late."

And with that, he exited the throne room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Niall clutched his chest, staggering to his throne. It was all too much. There was no undoing this damnation. He had failed, and failed, and failed, and all the beauty that he had hoped Mor Ardain might show the world was dead and gone because of his failures, and it froze in his chest, a solid knot of pain in his heart, like nothing he had ever known. He sat in his throne, burying his face in his hands, thinking of all that Mor Ardain could have been, if only he had been smarter, or stronger, or less of a failure.

Moments later, the first roars of artillery fire shook the Palace.

**TICK**

"We've got to do something," Rex said quietly.

The Praetor had led them away from the bustle of his throne room, filled as it was with his command, all anxiously monitoring the developing battle, down the long hallway to his office where he had previously met with Rex and Malos. It was more than large enough to accommodate the entire party, though he did bid servants bring in extra chairs, along with steaming cups of tea. He sat now behind his large desk, eyes glimmering in the sunlight, weighing them all, Fan standing behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

Morag had refused a chair, retreating to the shadows of a corner of the room, looking particularly pale, not letting go of the communique from her brother the Praetor had handed her. Niall. Her brother, blaming himself for this atrocity. She couldn't stand it. She should have been Emperess, not for the power, but so that she might have shouldered this burden for him. Damn it, she should have killed all of Brionac herself. Why had she let him order her away, onto this quest for Elysium? The sweet fool boy, had he been trying to protect _her?_ Brighid watched over her driver worriedly. She had never seen Morag so distraught, outside of the night Niall had been shot before her eyes. She could feel it through their ether bond, feel Morag's heart breaking for her brother, breaking for her country, breaking hard enough so that it showed through the stoic exterior her driver endeavored so hard to maintain. She wished she knew just the right thing to say. She wished she could reach out and comfort Morag, but there was nothing that was going to ease her pain. There was nothing to say, nothing to do in the face of all this horror.

The large windows in Amalthus' office offered a brutally clear picture of the invasion. Through the large paned glass, framed as if a painting, they could see the Ardainian Titan looming, lurching towards Uraya, the sounds of artillery fire muffled by the palace walls. Poppi stared out the window, placing her hand on the glass. She felt...odd, as she stared out at Mor Ardain. It was...a kingdom of engineers, clever men, clever men much like her Tora. Men of swift and nimble fingers and inquisitive minds. And they had bent all that cleverness, all that knowledge, into building machines of beautiful complexity, that they might do….this? Her orange eyes widened as a new wave of fireballs dotted the surface of Uraya. All that curiousity, all that beautiful design, all so that they might kill and maim?

"What a waste," Tora said softly at her side, joining her at the window. He reached up to take her free hand with one of his wings. "What a waste."

Poppi looked down at him. That was what she felt. It wasn't just the atrocity of war that appalled her. It was the awful waste of all that imagination that might have built beauty and wonder, bent instead to steel, flame and bomb. For the first time, she felt incredibly aware of the rockets, the weapons built into her frame. For the first time, they burned within her. She almost felt something like shame. Poppi was more than just her weapons, of course. For the first time, she truly appreciated how she had been built for more than violence. "Masterpon," she said quietly, "Thank you for making Poppi more than this."

Even the normally effervescent Pandoria was silenced by it all. She had her arms linked around one of Zeke's, resting her head on his shoulder. She could feel what he was feeling. Zeke may be silly, and unserious most of the time. But he had a real fire, a real anger, for misgovernment. It was part of what had gotten him banished, after all. He passionately felt that leaders had a real responsibility to their people, to lead them to the right path, and nothing infuriated him more than to see a people led astray. All humor driven out of him, Zeke's mouth was a grim, thin line as he stared out at Mor Ardain. She could feel the contempt he felt for their leaders. "Bloody-minded bastards," he snarled beneath his breath. "Criminal, is what it is."

Malos and Nia sat to the sides of Rex, in chairs facing the Praetor's desk, Dromarch at Nia's feet. Malos had his arms crossed, his face in shadow, dark and brooding, emotions unreadable. Nia...she had dim memories of the tail ends of the Gormotti rebellions against Mor Ardain. The end of the resistance to the occupation, the last lingering flames of war in Gormott had always seemed a distant thing to her. Her driver had been part of the nobility that had allied with Mor Ardain early, and the last elements of rebellion had been battles that had taken place far from her home. She wondered, when Mor Ardain had first invaded Gormott, if it had been as bad as this. Somehow, she didn't think so. She had heard people say that the Empire had been getting bloodier and more brutal over the years. She wondered if she ought to feel thankful that Gormott had been invaded when they still had the soul of mercy within them.

Another barrage of artillery fire roared in the distance, and Rex winced. "Please!" he said, to Amalthus, to anyone who would listen. "Please, there...has to be something that can be done!"

Silence answered him. Until Amalthus leaned forward across his desk, pinning Rex with a stare that made him shift uncomfortable. "Like what, do you suppose?" the Praetor asked. "I'm curious. What do you think could be done, at this late hour? I would like to hear what you think."

"I..." Rex gestured helplessly out the window. "Couldn't you...you're the Praetor. You could tell them to stop-"

Amalthus gave a dry, mirthless laugh. "I do not rule Mor Ardain, Rex."

"I know! You could...you could tell them to stop, or you'll attack. You could make them back down."

"I could," Amalthus mused. "And what if they don't care? You saw these men in Mor Ardain. Butchers they may be, did they seem lacking in bravery? Did they seem like they might be intimidated, though the whole world be arrayed against them?"

Rex recalled his conversation with the Brionac officers in Mor Ardain. Those hard men, with dark, flat eyes, idly discussing how Mor Ardain might conquer the world. He paled, hanging his head. Nia felt her heart ache for him. He was a dim candle, flickering, trying to hold on against the darkness closing in.

"No," Amalthus continued, "I think your plan would do nothing more than draw Indol into the war. Make it even larger. Simply cause more suffering. What about you, Malos? What say you? Do you think this war could be stopped somehow?"

Malos was quiet, his face still steeped in shadow. Rex looked towards him hopefully, and Malos sighed. "I think," he said eventually, "War is part of human nature. It will always be with you. If not this war, then another one. You will carry it with you to your bitter end."

"No!" Rex cried, his voice breaking, as he leapt from his chair. "I won't believe that. I won't! Maybe people will always fight, sure, people will always disagree, but you can talk things out, you can find a better way, you can..." he trailed off as he stared out the window, at the rage and flame of war. When he turned to face them again, his eyes were shining as he struggled to contain his tears. "We have to be better than this," he said, his voice filled with determination. "We have to. I...I wish I could do something. I should be able to do something."

"Yes," the Praetor said, "You should."

Nia whipped her head around to stare at him in shock.

Amalthus spread his hands across his desk, and suddenly, almost as it had last night, the world seemed to turn around him. His eyes were an eternal pool, an abyss of judgment, they locked Rex in their gaze, until his hands hung limp by his sides. "Your failures are mine as well, Rex," the Praetor said. "Both of us, drivers of an Aegis. Both of us have failed. We should have been able to do something. I have tried for generations to steer Mor Ardain off the course of war. Oh, I had had temporary successes. But always they return to their path. I bear the responsibility of that failure, and as a Driver of the Aegis, you do too. More than anyone else, we must be the ones held responsible. We were not given the power we have for idleness. If we do not have the power to make things better, if we do not have the ability to stop things like this war, we must work until we do. Anything less, Rex, is _failure._ I hope now you understand the weight of your responsibility. The blood on your hands, should you not live up to the potential of the gift the Architect gave you."

The Praetor's words sawed through Rex, cutting him to the bone. Some knot twisted itself around his heart, the pain of his failure burning within him. The Praetor was right. In some way, this was all his responsibility. Which meant that all this suffering, all this death was his fault…

"We must be better, Rex," the Praetor continued, his voice drilling into Rex's head, "We-"

"Stop!"

Amalthus and Rex both turned to face Nia, the Praetor's expression cool, Rex looking almost hollow. She couldn't help it. She couldn't help crying out. It was almost as if...as the Praetor spoke, she could _see _the darkness reaching out from him, twisting around Rex's heart. He was breaking Rex, he was...it was as if with mere words, he was forging in Rex the same wound that lay within him. And so deep, so utter was the wound within him, that it could not have outraged her more if Amalthus had drawn a sword and thrust it directly into Rex's heart. "Stop it," she snapped, almost unable to contain her horror. "He...he doesn't have to..."

Amalthus was quiet for a moment, and then sat back in his chair, putting a hand to his head, weary. "Yes. I apologize. You are young, Rex. These are concerns for later. This war has gotten to me, as well. It is my burden, not yours." He rose, his robes sweeping around him, and for a moment he actually seemed to bear the weight of his age as he glanced out the window. It was enough for Fan to reach out and take his arm with concern. "I...should check in with my advisors. They are monitoring the situation closely. Even if nothing can be done, I would like to keep myself appraised of the war as it progresses."

The room was silent after Amalthus had left, Fan attendant on his arm. Rex got up, walking to the door as well. "I think I'm just gonna...take a bit of a walk to clear my head," he said quietly.

Nia whipped her head around to stare angrily at the rest of the group after he had gone, yellow eyes flashing. "Why didn't the rest of you say anything?" she hissed. "Do you really think Rex needed to hear that?"

"I...don't think Amalthus meant anything by it, Nia," Zeke said, still staring out the window. "You heard what he said. The war's getting to all of us." Morag glanced at her, pale, too withdrawn to speak, and Tora just looked at her with wide eyes, as if the idea of interrupting the Praetor was insanity. Poppi, though, and Brighid, both looked ashamed. It seemed as if they agreed with her at least.

"Didn't mean anything by it," she muttered. "You could write books about what that man means with every bloody word he speaks." She turned to Malos, her glare heated enough to wither grass. "And you! Damn you, you're his blade. Can't you encourage him, for once?"

Malos looked at her, seeming surprisingly tired. "Would you like me to have lied to him?" he asked, wearily. "Encouraged his childish optimism?"

Nia's blood boiled with anger. "It's not childish," she cried, and then paused, almost surprised at herself.

Malos raised an eyebrow at her, quizzically. "Do you...really think that?" he asked.

"I...I don't know. Maybe it is, a bit..."

"Poppi doesn't think so," the artificial blade murmured quietly to herself, so that only she could hear.

"But...look," Nia continued, "It's...he...he can't do this alone." As she said the words, she suddenly realized the truth of them. Rex tried so hard to hold on to hope in the face of all the horror the world showed him. And while he might keep his chin up, and smile, and laugh off people's concerns, who did he have to help him keep the flame of that hope alive? Sure, he had friends, but who else really _believed _like he did? Nia...wanted to. But she wasn't sure if she truly did. "I...ah." She got up, shaking her head. "I...I dunno. I'm gonna go take a walk as well."

Nia found Rex in one of the hallways leading up to the throne room. The bustle and panic had died down a bit by now, as the officers and other residents of the palace found the places they would huddle and watch the war with dread.

Rex was standing in the shadow of one of those foreboding paintings Amalthus had decorating the leadup to his throne, staring up at it intently. It was a scene of war and ruin, a battlefield ablaze after humanity had been cast down from the World Tree, which loomed ominously in the background against a flame-scorched sky. "You know," he said quietly, as she approached, without turning around, "I...always thought that this would never happen. Even after what we saw in Mor Ardain. I thought, surely...something would stop it. Something would prevent it. Niall would find some way, or we'd find some way to help him...something. I guess I thought nothing so horrible could ever _really _happen." He gave a resigned chuckle, but as Nia drew up beside him, she could see the dark circles beneath his eyes. "I guess I really am naive. Maybe I thought...by the time it arrived, I would have the ability to stop it. Somehow."

"Rex, I don't care if you are the Driver of the Aegis or whatever puffed-up nonsense title they hand out to whoever can put up with people like Malos and Mythra. It isn't your damn responsibility." Belying her harsh words, Nia reached out to hold his hand.

"Then whose?" Rex murmured. "I mean, you heard the Praetor..."

Nia's blood caught fire with rage. Oh yeah, sure. Amalthus had meant nothing by it. Nia didn't buy it for a second. The Praetor wielded his words like a weapon, and she was certain that every one he spoke was measured and meant to draw blood. "Rex...don't listen to him. Please. There's...I don't know. There's something wrong with him. I can just tell. He has a lot of pretty words, but he...maybe it's all the people he's hurt, even just by accident. There's something twisted up in him. Remember what Cole said."

"I remember. But...it's not just him, you know. I wish I could do something myself. I mean..." he sighed, looking down at the ground, as more artillery fire roared in the distance. "What good will Elysium do, if we can't be better than this? It can be better. Right…? It can be better than this."

Nia wasn't sure what to say. She wanted to believe it could. She wanted to help Rex keep that flame inside from being snuffed out by the darkness. But as the artillery roared and the bombs thundered, she still wasn't sure of her answer.

She didn't know how long she stood there, squeezing Rex's hand. But eventually, they were interrupted.

"Rex," came the commanding tone of the Praetor, and they both whirled around. Amalthus stood there, his long shadow stretching out toward them, Fan at his side, and Nia immediately felt uncomfortable. Even more so than she normally would in the Praetor's presence. It was as if that web of history that you could normally feel roiling around Amalthus was stretching out towards them, ensnaring them, as the Praetor watched with judging, calculating eyes. "I have been looking for you," the Praetor continued. "We may not be able to do something about this war, but I have received a report that may aid us in your mission to Elysium." And his eyes barely changed, but suddenly Nia could sense a deadly hunger radiating from Amalthus. As if that abyss inside him was smelling blood. "We have reports on Mythra's location. She is in Temperantia."

**TOCK**

Supreme Commander Maclair hurried away from the throne room, quickly passing by Nelson, who shot him a glare full of cold fury.

Nelson was one of the few men who frightened Maclair. He was legendary in combat – if only half the tales Maclair had heard about him were true, he was either superhuman or had the devil's luck, or both. But beneath that fury and brutality lay a mind of extreme cunning and incredible strategy. He had seen details of some of the battles Nelson had led – leading Ardainian forces to victory against fifty to one odds, driving far larger armies to their knees. Maclair did not envy the Urayans. People gave Casey credit for ending the Gormotti rebellions, but Maclair wasn't so sure. Nelson had been the Commanding General in Gormott before Casey, and had reaped a ruin of Mor Ardain's enemies. Countless rebellious tribes swallowed in bomb and flame, exterminated to a soul. More than a few mass graves dotted Gormott that were Nelson's doing. Casey may have forged a truce, but Maclair had always thought it had been Nelson who truly broke the Gormotti. Peace may have only been possible because Nelson had convinced the cats that he really, truly would kill every last one of them.

Maclair himself, though he held the rank of Commander, had never truly commanded men in a strategic battle. His talents lay elsewhere – in the realm of spycraft, assassinations, poisonings, bombings, subterfuge...the subject of his current mission.

He rushed out of the palace, avoiding the endless legions marching through the streets, their footsteps a resounding, thundering drumbeat. He ducked down a dark alleyway, making his way through the winding streets of Mor Ardain, descending, ever descending, the roar of the crowds above slowly fading, until he came to a small, damp courtyard that opened out into the Cloud Sea, buzzing electric lights casting a sickly orange glow. A smuggler's dock – or at least it had been, until Maclair had used his knowledge of Mor Ardain's seedy underbelly to incorporate its criminal elements into the Empire's spy network. Truth be told, it was still used as a smuggler's dock, but nowadays, it smuggled core crystals and salvaged weaponry to Mor Ardain's forces.

His team was waiting there for him, glancing nervously as he stepped out of the shadows. These were hardened men – spies, assassins – recruited from Mor Ardain's criminal gangs, but the appearance of Maclair was enough to make them lick their lips in fear. He did have a bit of a legend himself, Maclair supposed. He was almost entirely responsible for the intimidating state of Mor Ardain's current spy networks, and he had spent years making it clear to the Empire's criminal families that they would serve the state, or die alone in the dark.

He observed the ship that was to be carrying them – a small skipper, barely large enough to fit his entire team, outfitted for speed and speed alone, nothing about it identifying it as belonging to Mor Ardain. His team had done a good job in selecting the boat. "Good," he said, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "Let's go. We've not much time."

He joined his team as they clambered skillfully onto the boat, in utter silence. As it lurched forward with incredible acceleration, sending huge plumes of fog up into the air as it cut quickly through the Cloud Sea, there was a sudden roaring sound like thunder, and a huge dark shadow fell over them. Maclair turned his eyes upwards to see the massive shape of Indol, its wings blotting out the sun, hovering quite closely to Mor Ardain – though not so close that the Empire might turn its artillery guns on them.

Amalthus. Maclair knew where much of Brionac's money came from, clever as Amalthus had been at hiding the cash flow, attempting to make it look like their budget came from native Ardainian industrialists. He had tried telling the command of Brionac's military arm about it, but they had never given it the attention it deserved. One of the sad little quirks of how Mor Ardain ran things. Under the Imperial Republic, which, Maclair supposed, was truly dead and gone now, matters of budget were strictly the realm of the Senate, while the military was to maximize victory with the forces and money they were given. Even if Brionac had broken the old Republic, too many high-ranking military officials still gave little consideration to matters of budget or where the money came from. Old habits died hard. Maclair had informed some of the more loyal Brionac Senators, and they had expressed concern...but the Senate was hardly relevant anymore. But Amalthus was clearly up to something. He funded Brionac, even...cooperated with them, in some ways, while denouncing them in public. And he also sent military aid and funding to Uraya. For what was the old fox maneuvering? Maclair might have been more worried, but….he glanced to the skies, to the swarms of airships, to the Cloud Sea, the armadas upon armadas of Ardainian battleships. Even Indol could not stand against that. Whatever web Amalthus was weaving, Brionac would choke him with it.

They cut out swiftly across the Cloud Sea, racing to their destination ahead of the thundering, ponderous footsteps of the Ardainian Titan: Rising like a breathing mountain in the distance, the stony hide of the Urayan Titan. As they approached, artillery fire erupted like distant thunder behind him, and shells screamed overhead: Mor Ardain was beginning to fire some of its larger artillery cannons at the distant Urayan Titan. Maclair watched as fireballs bloomed on the surface of Uraya, leaving behind dark gray craters; tiny at this distance, but he knew each of these strikes could leave gouges in the earth a hundred feet across. They cut a wide berth, avoiding heading toward the Titan head-on, to avoid heading into the approaching Urayan navy. Which was impressive, as far as navies went – though a bit ramshackle, composed mostly of pirates and other Urayan mercenaries, with only a sprinkling of a few battleships owned by the monarchy – but certainly would stand no chance against the oncoming Ardainian onslaught. It was valiant of them to fight though they knew they might die – or, Maclair thought, that was certainly what they must be thinking. Maclair himself knew better. Those thousands of deaths, no matter how valiant, would never change the course of history. It made no difference if they died with honor or died a coward's death. They were dead either way. And in a generation or so, forgotten.

Maclair steered the helmsman around towards Uraya's tail, once he was satisfied that they had avoided the attention of her navies. There was an alcove there he knew from his youth, so many, many years ago, when he had been one of Mor Ardain's criminal smugglers himself. It was now secured by Ardainian spies, though it had never been used before this. No, Maclair had not wanted to draw attention to it. He had wanted to save this entry point for this one particular mission.

Men standing at the docks snapped to attention as they docked and they saw him on board the deck. Maclair considered this silly, honestly – he considered much of military formality silly. He considered this mission itself foolish. Not the goal of the mission itself, but rather the fact that he had to personally lead it. Maclair was no coward – he had dealt death personally, himself, many, many times – but Mor Ardain's tradition of sending its high command, even its Emperors, out to the front lines was just pure stupidity. For valor and honor, they said, but those were just masks for idiocy. Sending high command out into battle had cost Mor Ardain more than a few times in its history – they had even lost Emperors to violence. Not that he could have ever bought up these concerns. If he had suggested that the High Command not take part in the battle, Nelson may well have killed him for the mere suggestion, and even Casey would have looked down on him for that. At least here he was avoiding the front lines.

"Do you have the disguises?" he asked the saluting men, as he stepped down briskly from the boat. They nodded, and directed Maclair and his team to a small cave that branched out from the cove, its walls thick with slime. In the center of the cave, displayed pristinely on a set of stands, was a dozen sets of the bulky, steel Urayan armor.

Maclair sighed as he and his team began strapping the armor on. He despised Urayan armor. It was thick steel, designed to deflect small arms fire, but so ridiculously bulky that it was almost impossible to move in. It was really designed for Urayans, who were generally much larger and stronger than Ardainians were. These were the last sets of this armor he had available. He had collected smuggled sets of these for over a year to build up the amount he had used in the assassination attempt on Niall. He didn't mind that it had failed, though if Niall had still, somehow, found a way to put up resistance afterward it might have meant his head. But even though Niall had lived – a fact Maclair found very, very curious, seeing as how he had clearly been shot when he had gone and visited Niall, only to find him alive with his sister and her 'dignitaries' - it didn't matter. After the coup, there was nothing Niall could have done to stop them anyway. It might have almost been kinder if the boy had been killed. It was clear this war weighed heavily on him, and now he was going to have to see it all.

Once they were suited up in their disguises as Urayan soldiers, Maclair turned to his team and drew a finger across his throat. They understood immediately – if there was to be any talking, it was up to Maclair. He didn't want their chatter alerting anyone to their disguises. He could fake an Urayan accent as well as anyone he knew, but the other men had never been trained for that. Not that it had been official training that was responsible for that. He had done business with many Urayans in his youth as a smuggler, in fact, traveling to this very spot to make his runs.

They left the cove, making a steep ascent up a slope of loose soil in which some planks had been laid half-heartedly to make a dubious set of stairs, until they emerged into daylight – into the lower warrens of Fonsa Myma.

Maclair glanced around as he lead his men through the winding cobblestone streets. The city had grown larger since he had been here last. Louder, as well – the constant ringing of hammers on steel, from Fonsa Myma's blacksmiths, metallurgists and ironworks, was almost deafening as their war production reached a fevered pitch. As impressive as Uraya's smithies might be, of course, their production was nothing compared to Mor Ardain's factories. No, no tanks would roll out on the battlefield on Uraya's behalf, and the hulls of her warships, where they were iron-armored, were simply plating bolted onto the wood lying beneath. Urayan guns were bolt-action rifles or shotguns, rather than the assault rifles and machine guns Mor Ardain had available. Uraya relied much more heavily on her experienced blade-wielding mercenaries for heavy firepower on the battlefield. A peculiar weakness Mor Ardain had never done much to address. Oh, the Empire had blades among her armies, but not nearly as many as she _should _have. Ownership of blades in Mor Ardain had been, traditionally, seen as a luxury of the nobility and the royalty. Niall, funny enough, had done his part to try and change that – before he began spending most of his time trying to stop the war – and some headway had been made. Ironic, Maclair considered, given that all he had done was increase the capabilities of the military he tried so desperately to stop.

As they made their way through Fonsa Myma's streets, Maclair looked around with some surprise. There were barely any soldiers, here. And where there were, they were...children, some of them could not be older than thirteen, or old men, not dressed in steel armor, but rather leather padding. He tsked irritably to himself beneath his sweltering armor. Uraya must have gotten their battle plans, and knew that they were not planning to initially strike at Fonsa Myma – otherwise they would have never left it so undefended. All the fighting men must be at forward positions. He had heard some reports about the city being lightly defended, but not nearly this much – Raqura must have repositioned her forces only recently. Not only did that mean resistance might be more than Nelson was suspecting, that meant these damn disguises might actually make them stand out more. And indeed, he saw a few of the children and old men raising a suspicious eyebrow at them as they passed by.

But for all that, they made their way through the city without anyone accosting them, slowly but surely making their way to their destination: Fonsa Myma's castle, the heart of its monarchy. It was not nearly so grand as the Ardainian palace in Alba Cavanich, but it was built for sieges – a relic of the time when Uraya had been many nations of mercenaries, warring and vying for control of the Titan, before the monarchy had united them. Even now, it was an imposing monument of thick gray stone, more than capable of absorbing quite a few artillery strikes. Maclair would not envy anyone whose task it was to take it. Lucky for him, he had a way in.

He led his men around the castle, to an old, abandoned stables, so old that the wood nearly cracked under the weight of their armor as they stepped inside. The interior was bare, covered in a thick layer of dust, golden sunlight catching the whirls and eddies of the motes as their tromping feet kicked it up.

Down, though, down in the basement, made of thick gray stone, much like the castle, there was a large iron-wrought door. Maclair approached it and rapped his fingers upon it. A small porthole in the door slid open with a squeal, and a pair of gleaming eyes looked at him expectantly from the darkness beyond. He leaned forward, and whispered, "Titans shelter us on this Day of Judgment."

Satisfied with the passphrase, the iron porthole slid shut again. And then with a groan, the door swung open, the hinges complaining so much Maclair thought they might snap. And in the darkness beyond there was an Indoline officer, hooded in white and gold, blade at his hip, his overcoat worked through with a golden thread as well, knee-high boots burnished until they burned in the darkness. "Hello, Maclair," the officer said informally, giving the Supreme Commander a sharp smile. "Right on schedule."

Maclair eyed the Indoline suspiciously. When he had been sending out inquiries among his sources in Fonsa Myma on how to best infiltrate the palace, this officer – Senelo – had been conspicuously available. He had accepted payment, of course, but Maclair knew of the legendary loyalty Indol's officer corps had to Amalthus. They would never do anything the Praetor did not approve of. This man, he was certain, was helping him to infiltrate the castle because Amalthus gave his blessing. Webs upon webs, Amlathus laid, a schemer for certain. He merely nodded at the Indoline, and then followed him into the dark tunnel that lay ahead.

The tunnel carried forward for some time, flooded in some parts with foul-smelling water that seeped in through their steel-plated boots. But eventually, after some time, it opened up on the disused and decrepit dungeons of the Fonsa Myma castle. They had gone so long without use that the bars had rusted right out of their cells – Fonsa Myma kept people in actual jails nowadays, not simply tossing them in the castle dungeons – but it still opened up onto the rest of the castle.

"Alright," Maclair ordered his men, "Armor off, knives out. No guns yet." Though the Urayan disguise might still have benefited them in the castle, it was too heavy, and they had to move quickly here. The castle itself was enough of a maze that they could make their way through it without being spotted, and quietly so long as they only killed with their knives.

"Good luck, Maclair," Senelo called softly, still sounding distinctly amused, watching with those sharp, bright eyes as Maclair and his men exited the dungeons after removing their armor. Maclair turned away with a shiver. Something about those eyes troubled him.

He led his men through the castle. He had extensively studied its extremely detailed layouts, delivered to him by his spies, until he knew all its secrets, all its hidden spots, probably better than even the Queen did. They ducked around corners when they saw guards heading down hallways. Maclair had two dozen routes that they might take to their destination memorized, and now was not the time to kill. No, that would come soon enough. It wasn't long before he and his team arrived at their destination, a large wooden door, behind which flickered fires. Heat and laughter emanated from it, the carefree laughter of the castle staff, women bickering back and forth. Maclair drew a breath, steeling himself, readying his dagger, a long, straight, black-hilted blade, and slowly wiped it down with a cloth damp with an oily poison, careful not to let it touch his skin. Now. Now was the time to kill.

He pushed open the door quietly, revealing a large kitchen with several cookmaids busying themselves around a fire, large roasting spits of delicious smelling meat, bubbling stews. One busied herself at a kitchen sink, washing a humongous pile of dishes. He took a few quiet steps forward, signaling to his team behind him who was to kill who. And then he coiled, trembling, and launched himself forward.

He grabbed the dishmaid from behind, clamping a hand over her mouth, sliding his blade between her ribs. The other women scarcely had time to react either before his team had moved in to deal them their silent deaths – one got out a small yelp before a cruel hand muffled her and poison stopped her heart.

It was over in a matter of seconds. Their bodies were unceremoniously piled up in the larder. It would not do to have them being discovered while their true target was now so close. Maclair pushed open a door painted a faded red just a crack, and peeked out into the room beyond.

There. Around a large banquet table was Queen Raqura of Uraya, a stout woman of hard eyes and thickly muscled arms, foregoing her royal dress in this time of war for a leather vest strapped about with bandoliers and knives, and her court, various nobles and minor royalty, along with a collection of mercenary chieftains, hardened men, all of them armed. They had not heard a thing, currently arguing uproariously about the specifics of their battle plans as they feasted. Raqura was constantly challenged on her desires, though it appeared she was giving as good as she got, roaring and slamming her fist on the table hard enough to shake it as she tore meat from a bone with her teeth, jabbing her finger at a mercenary chieftain currently yelling at her. He glanced upward. This room was lit by electric lights, somewhat clumsily installed onto the old stone. His eyes traced the wires until they found a switch. It lay only five feet from the entrance to the kitchen. Perfect. His reports had been accurate.

He gently closed the door, then reached beneath his coat to the smooth black metal there, the submachine gun he had strapped to his chest, unholstering it. "Guns out," he murmured to his team, "Dark fire. Watch your lanes. Don't fire until I hit the lights." He watched as the men with him unholstered their guns, holding them at the ready, crowding behind him by the door. "On three. One, two -"

Maclair pushed the door open, careful not to slam it, and headed straight for the light switch as his men fanned out behind him. He heard one of the mercenary chieftains cry out in alarm before he flicked the switch, and sent the room into darkness.

And then the slaughter began. The roar of gunfire, the screams, as his men opened fire on the banquet table. The brief flashes from the muzzle fire revealing, in stark, harsh light, the contorting bodies of Uraya's royalty and her top mercenaries as they were riddled with bullets, the surprise and the dark leaving them helpless against the Snake of the Empire.

Raqura herself scrambled along the ground as bullets whizzed in the darkness above her head. She had been hit in the arm in the initial fire, but had immediately thrown herself to the ground. Finally the gunfire stopped, and there was nothing but deadly silence. Doing her best to hold her breath, she began crawling along the ground, doing her best to ignore the warm pools of blood she ran into in the dark. If she could make it to an exit, she might still live -

There was a rustling sound from behind her, in the dark. She glanced behind her, and froze in fear.

There, swimming out from the darkness, what little light there was catching the silver snakes woven into his coat and making them look as if they were coiling through the air, was Maclair. He held a dagger dripping blood and poison, and looked down at her with eyes hooded in darkness. He considered her for a long moment, circling around her, long enough to make Raqura wonder if he actually did plan on killing her. "Wait-", she said.

And then Maclair struck, driving his poisoned dagger into her heart. He watched thoughtfully as the poison worked its way through her system quickly, until within seconds she was gray and still. "Lights on," he said.

One of his men flicked on the lights, and Maclair surveyed the carnage. Bodies lay draped over chairs, slumped into their dishes, sprawled across the floor. Not a soul had been left alive. With one strike, this was the end of Uraya's monarchy and military leadership. He watched as his men spread out among the bodies, double checking to make sure they were well and truly dead, and turned back to Raqura. She looked like she had been a strong Queen. He wondered if history would remember her at all. He wondered-

"Congratulations," came a voice from dangerously close behind him. Maclair whirled around to be greeted by the sharp, laughing eyes of Senelo, the Indoline officer standing a mere foot from him. How had he managed to get so close without Maclair hearing him? Senelo's eyes lit up as if he could read Maclair's thoughts and found the question amusing. "The Praetor," the Indoline officer continued, "Thanks you for your service."

The blade in Maclair's gut was so sharp that he didn't even feel it until Senelo gave it a cruel twist.

He fell to his knees, blood bubbling from his mouth, and then collapsed on the ground next to Raqura. He could dimly hear his men screaming, was aware of white shapes flooding into the throne room with whirling staves. He could hear Senelo shouting, "ARISE, Men of Uraya! Your Queen has been killed by Ardainian assassins...!"

But as his blood pooled beneath him, it all seemed so far away. His vision blurred, dimmed, faded, the screams and shouts now just muffled echoes, and he fell into the black.

Maclair suddenly found himself on a bridge. An old Ardainian bridge, of stone and black metal, overlooking a vast drop to a desert plain and the stretching Cloud Sea below. But the busy streets of Alba Cavanich did not rest on one end of this bridge, as it should have. And the Palace was not visible at the other. No, instead there was nothing but a yawning, infinite black at either end of this bridge.

But this was not what made dread seize Maclair's heart. No, he knew this bridge. He knew it all too well. It had been burned into his memory so long ago. He looked down at himself. He was...changed. Age had fallen from him, along with his military uniform. He was as he had been in his youth, when he had been a rebellious young criminal in Alba Cavanich, of long hair, dressed in a roguish leather jacket and jeans. He lifted his eyes, his heart racing, looking down the bridge.

There she was. Just as he remembered her. Long black hair, smouldering green eyes, lined with smoky dark makeup. Wearing garish stockings and boots, a short plaid skirt, and a beaten leather jacket that she had steamed dozens of silly patches onto. A mischievous smile on her face, and a guitar in her hands, which she was idly tuning. The biggest regret Maclair had in his life. Jenny.

He and Jenny had been born into poverty together in Alba Cavanich, and had grown up together, first friends, and then quickly lovers. Maclair had fallen in with the criminal underclass of the city to make money, while Jenny played her guitar and sang in seedy bars. They had moved away from their families to live together at a very young age, without getting married, something considered quite scandalous at the time, but...why would they care? They were part of the vibrant counterculture that existed among the poor of the city, questioning Mor Ardain's norms and customs. They loved each other, and wasn't that enough?

It was while Maclair was smuggling that he had first run into Brionac. It seemed strange to think now, but Brionac was better at talking to the poor than the traditional Ardainian military was. A Brionac recruiter had actually paid his bail after he had gotten arrested at the docks, and talked to him for long hours afterward. Asking him if he really wanted his life to be like this. Telling him that smuggling would not last forever, that eventually, he would be caught and no one would pay his bail. Unless, of course, he smuggled weapons for Brionac instead. They would make sure he was always bailed out.

It was then that he began working for Brionac, and slowly, becoming more and more interested in their politics. How they pointed out that the nobility and the industrialists sucked up the precious few resources Mor Ardain had. How the fruits of conquest never seemed to reach the poor. A war, Brionac said, should benefit everyone. The industrialists should work on their behalf. Military leaders, men who had worked their way up from the bottom, were better representatives than the nobility and the royalty. And so he had smuggled weapons for them, helping them build their militias.

Jenny had never approved of Brionac. She insisted something was gone rotten with them, something was wrong from the start. She had watched with dismay as Maclair became more and more interested, more and more involved with their activities.

Until one fateful day. A day burned forever in Maclair's mind.

They went on a date, Jenny showering him with kisses as they walked the streets of the city, taking his face in her hands, affectionate and loving until it was almost as if Maclair could feel the love she had for him burning in her heart. She had led him to a bridge, this bridge, and taken out her guitar. And she had played him a song of such aching beauty, her voice angelic and sweet, and asked him to marry her. To run away with her, to Leftheria, and get married, and live their lives away from Mor Ardain. Her face had burned with embarrassment as she did so. Rebel they both may be, but it was considered extremely inappropriate for a woman to be the one asking at the time. She had been so brave. She must have loved him so.

And Maclair had told her no.

She had been bemused at first. "Oh, c'mon," she had laughed, thinking he was joking. "Of course you're going to marry me."

But Brionac had already reached into Maclair's head. And Brionac preferred uncommitted young men to die for their cause. It shunned marriage. And to abandon Mor Ardain, when it had so much potential, if only it could change? It was unthinkable.

So he told her no again.

She had stared at him, then asked him, angrily, if he was serious. And when he told her yes, he watched in shock as tough Jenny, laughing Jenny, the Jenny he had known all his life and never seen cry, began to weep, watched in shock as her heart broke more completely than he had thought possible. She had begged him, pleaded with him, to come with her to Leftheria, to leave Mor Ardain behind, she had sobbed, not caring about the strangers walking by who had begun to look at them oddly, that she loved him, please, she loved him so much, she didn't want to watch what this country was going to do to him.

And it was enough to make Maclair consider it. But in the end, not enough to change his mind. He had left her there, collapsed to her knees, weeping openly into her hands. That night he had gone to collect what few belongings he had from their shared home, and left to sleep in the Brionac barracks.

And in all the years ahead, when Brionac had drafted him into its wars, when he had risen to lead their spy branch, when he had become Supreme Commander, whenever he had his doubts about Brionac, whenever he had his doubts about what he was doing, it was that image he saw. Jenny, heartbroken, weeping on that bridge. The last time he had ever seen her. And as the years wore on, he wondered more and more if he had made the right choice that night, and he was plagued, constantly, by dreams of what his life may have been like if he had chosen to go with her. There was even a time, a few years later after he had last seen her, when his doubts had grown so great, that he actually went looking for her. He took leave and traveled to Leftheria, and he knew, with utter certainty, that if he found her, he would abandon everything, let everything go, to be with her again.

But he never did. All he found in Leftheria were a few leads that had claimed they had seen her a few years ago, but did not know where she was now. That, and endless beaches. So eventually, Maclair had returned to Mor Ardain. What was there for him now, but the Empire?

And now, as he looked at her on this bridge stretching out into darkness, he could not help but wonder what his life would be like once more. Maybe by now they'd be grandparents. Maybe they'd be raising their grandchildren in some small village in Leftheria. If he had that life, would he regret leaving Mor Ardain as much as he regretted leaving Jenny now? But of course, he knew the answer. Of course he wouldn't.

He walked across the bridge, approaching her. She looked up as he approached, still tuning her guitar, and gave him a small smile, then put it down and leaned forward, resting her face in her hands. "Well, hello there, Tom," she murmured. "It's been a while."

"Jenny," Maclair said, and then finally he broke. It was too much. All that might have been was coursing through him, and he had been such a fool, such a damn fool to let it all go. To choose the path of murderer, assassin, spy, instead of the honest fact of her love. Was it all worth it, in the end? He had tried to pretend all his life it was. But it never had been. "I'm sorry, Jen," he said, hoarsely. "I'm sorry. I made the wrong choices."

"Well," she said quietly, getting up and approaching him, "If you think that's true, it must be right."

Maclair glanced down to the yawning darkness at the end of the bridge. He knew what that meant. "I suppose...I'll see you in another life."

Jenny quietly laid a hand against his face, giving him a bitter smile. "I'm sorry, Tom. You only get the one go-around, I'm afraid. One chance to live the sort of life you want. Did you?"

Tom Maclair, Snake of the Empire, assassin, murderer, poisoner and spy, closed his eyes as reality sank in. There would never be another chance. His life was what he had made of it. All that he had done, all the people whose deaths could be laid at his feet. All the young men of Mor Ardain who, thanks to Brionac, made the same mistakes he did. He had lived a lifetime in denial of his regret, making the wrong choices over and over again rather than admitting the one greatest mistake of his life. "No," he said quietly. "I didn't."

"Ah, well," Jenny shrugged, giving him a small smile. "You win some, you lose some, right?" And then she wrapped her arms around him, as from somewhere, a sweet, lilting tune began to play, echoing around them. It seemed so familiar, as if Tom had heard it somewhere before, but he couldn't place his finger on it. "How about one last dance?" Jenny murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Tom paused for a moment. And then he took her by the hand, placed one hand on her hip, and swayed with her to the music, twirling with Jenny as he had all those years ago. And together, they danced into the dark.

**TICK**

"I don't understand. What's Mythra doing in Temperantia?"

Rex and Nia stood once more in Amalthus' office. But now, the party had stopped their crowding around the window to come circle around the Praetor's desk, as he unfurled a map upon it, charting the paths and passages of the Titan's normal migratory cycles. He drew thick, jade stone carvings of the Urayan and Ardainian Titans out of a drawer in his desk, and placed them on the map. He then placed a third, a Titan of jagged mountains and pitted landscape, shaped somewhat like a moth, onto the map. Temperantia. He considered this for a moment, then made some marks with a pen on the map. "We aren't certain what her goals are," the Praetor said after a moment. "But we do know that she has attacked the Ardainian garrison there. What's important is that this is a good opportunity to strike. I know," he said, raising his eyes to pin Rex in his stare, "That the war weighs heavily on you, Rex. But you must keep your ultimate goal in mind."

"But...why attack the garrison?" Morag frowned. "Unless there is something there that..."

"You tell me," the Praetor replied wryly. "Temperantia is home to the ruins of Judicium. I know the Empire has been excavating artifacts there. Come now, Morag, you can hardly blame me for having spies. Do you know how many of Mor Ardain's I've captured? Perhaps Mythra thinks there is something there that could help her in her quest for the World Tree. Perhaps she's even right. Though Judicium was Indol's forebears, much of their knowledge and technology was lost to us when Mythra razed them."

"Wait, so this is a country that was destroyed by her?" Nia asked. "Is that why it looks so...messed up?"

Amalthus nodded. "It was a battleground between Mor Ardain and Uraya, until Mor Ardain gained the upper hand and drove the Urayan forces from it. Since then, the Ardainians have been excavating and garrisoning it in preparation for...well, the war that is now upon us. Morag, you should be helpful in at least keeping what remains of the garrison from attacking-"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on..." Rex said, holding up his hands. "So...what's...what do you think we're going to do here?"

Amalthus paused in his notes and scribbles upon the map – it looked as if he was plotting out a flight path – and looked up suddenly. "Why, you are to capture her, of course. You will need both Mythra and Malos to breach the World Tree. I told you this."

Rex paled, his hands dropping to his sides. "I...but why us? We….last time we fought her, we..."

Amalthus sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers, peering over them at Rex. "Are you frightened?" he asked softly.

"No!" Rex said, anger bringing an fierce red blush to his face. "It's...she killed a good friend of mine, last time we faced her. I...don't want..."

Amalthus nodded, considering this. "I understand. You are, however, our best chance to capture her. That you have faced her twice – and other members of Torna, as well – and lived, is extraordinary. I have lost many battle-hardened men in my attempts at tracking and capturing Torna. And you are the wielder of the Aegis." He nodded at Malos. "And this time, you will have other allies. Zeke, Pandoria – you have seen their prowess in combat."

"I never did get a chance to take a crack at Malos, back in Mor Ardain," Zeke mused. "This may be my best chance to square off against an Aegis."

"And..." Amalthus considered for a moment, then nodded to himself. "Fan. Will you accompany them?"

"Of course." Fan la Norne smiled, giving a small bow. "I am at your service." She gave a small laugh. "Fighting by your side against Mythra once more, Malos. The more things change, the more they stay the same."

"Let's hope we can do this with a minimum of fighting this time," Malos said darkly.

"Fan is an accomplished healer...though I understand you may have that one covered," Amalthus explained, and Nia shivered as his eyes fell upon her. "But perhaps more useful, here, is that she has the unique ability to suppress a blade's powers. Perhaps you remember that, Malos."

"I remember it pissing me off," the Dark Aegis snorted, and Fan placed a hand to her mouth to suppress a small smile.

Rex crossed his arms, putting a hand to his chin, as he pondered this. "I suppose we gotta take every shot we get at this," he said. "What do you think, Malos? You guys?"

Malos, oddly, had none of his usual cocky demeanour about him. He appeared almost...hesitant. But he spoke confidently. "Well, we've been training a lot since the last time you faced her. And believe me, Fan's power is annoying as hell. I give us pretty good odds." But Nia couldn't help but notice the dark lines beneath his eyes. If she didn't know any better, she would say that Malos was feeling...dread?

Morag took a deep breath, and with one final glance out the window at her warring country, squared her shoulders, and did her best to bury her distress deep within. "I think a mission would be good to take my mind off the things I can't do anything about right now," she said, hands clasped behind her back.

Poppi traced the red X crossing her face in memory of Vandham. "Poppi is ready for vengeance," she snarled.

The others voiced their approval, but Nia kept her silence. Something felt wrong. Almost monumentally wrong.

As Amalthus nodded, and everyone began making their way out of his office to make haste to the docks, Nia caught Rex's arm. "Rex," she said. "You….remember when we first met, you told me you had a sixth sense about your salvaging missions?"

Rex paused. It looked like he knew what she was about to say. "Yeah," he murmured. "And right now, it's screaming at me like it's the end of the world. I dunno if it's just because...I'm afraid, ever since Vandham, or if it's actually my gut telling me something..."

Nia couldn't help but remember that the last time he had felt this way, he had ended up dead.

**TOCK**

General Padraigh, standing on a balcony high up in the Palace, looked out over the marching legions of Mor Ardain filling the streets of Alba Cavanich, and wondered what it was he had done.

Since he had arrived to fulfill his role as Inspector General in Mor Ardain, he had been filled with a mounting sense of unease. His country had...changed, while he was out at war. The soldiers, the units he had investigated to assess their readiness for the coming war...there was a viciousness in them, a savagery he didn't remember growing up with. There were always the bloodthirsty soldiers, of course. They were always there. But it was as if all the darkness in Mor Ardain that had lain dormant was now bubbling to the surface. Men who clearly relished the opportunity to kill no longer felt the need to hide it. And the prisoners, Architect, the prisoners. Padraigh had watched with mounting horror as hundreds of 'traitors' were marched out of the city every day, more and more and more and more, to be led to their deaths by execution, their bodies unceremoniously dumped into the Cloud Sea. He had asked after their crimes, only to be chilled to the bone when he learned that many of them were simply young men who refused to participate in the war. Execution for treason? For that?

What Morag had told him...he had tried not to think of it, at first. It wasn't _for _him, he stubbornly held onto, to decide or think about what wars Mor Ardain chose to wage. And an attempted coup…? It seemed so fantastic. He didn't think Morag had been _lying _to him, but...he hadn't known what to believe. Until his time in the city had convinced him. Until he saw for himself the madness shining out of the eyes of Brionac's officer corps. Until he had heard from their mouths their mad desire for war.

Morag had been right. It was all going wrong. It was all rotten, right from the top. She had given him a chance to help delay it, and he had refused her. And now he was part of it, too. This darkness...there was no going back. Whatever had happened to Mor Ardain….there was no undoing the shame of it. The guilt of it would be with them forever. They would forever look back on history and see this as their blackest hour. And Padraigh hadn't stopped it. He hadn't even tried.

His doubts had been enough to drive him to drink, driving him into Mor Ardain's seedy bars. Even there, he could not escape the reality of what was happening. People drank their drinks in fearful silence, unsure if one wrong word might attract the attention of Brionac, unsure if it might mean a bullet in their head under the new treason and sedition powers the military leadership had claimed. Only those who towed the Brionac line felt confident in speaking up, and the more desperately they proclaimed their enthusiasm for the war, the more confident they felt. It led to a madness, people who, Padraigh thought, probably didn't even _support _the war, competing with each other to show just how enthusiastic they were for it, as if the louder they were the safer they were, their eyes darting around nervously as they made more and more outrageous claims about Mor Ardain's destiny to rule the world, how they should just grind the Urayans to dust, send them all to hell. And Padraigh had to restrain himself from screaming at those who remained silent, who simply watched with fearful eyes, to speak up, to speak out, to stop this, to stop this madness, Architect's love, stop this horror, for how could he ask it of them? When he had failed, when he remained silent himself, how could he expect it of others?

It was after one of these bar visits that Padraigh had run into a very peculiar encounter. He had stopped in an alleyway to rest his head against a cold stone wall, the world spinning around him, both from drink and from the horror of what he was seeing, when a hand had fallen upon his shoulder. He had spun around, nearly stumbling, only to come face to face with an Indoline woman, stunningly pretty for all her scales and fangs, dressed in the flowing white robes of their priesthood, her long red hair spilling out of her hood to nearly touch the ground.

It was peculiar to see an Indoline in Mor Ardain – they were not common outside of the Praetorium. Even more odd was seeing her in her priestly vestments, given how those who did not wear the Ardainian military dress these days attracted so much negative attention. She had introduced herself as Armalia, in lilting tones, offering him a drink of water to clear his head. And then she had placed a cool, dry hand along the side of his face. "Sweet man," she said softly, "I have been watching you. This war horrifies you, does it not?"

And perhaps it was the drink. Perhaps it was her affection and kindness, the first glimmer of the lighter side of human nature Padraigh had seen in Mor Ardain. But it had come spilling out of him. His long doubts about the war. His failure to heed Morag, his failure to do what he could do to stop it all. And most of all, his horror, his despair, for what had happened to his country, what had happened to the beautiful Mor Ardain he had grown up with, when did this happen, when had it all gone so wrong?

She had listened, nodding, sympathetic, curling her arm around his. She smelled deeply of the incense that Padraigh knew the Praetorium was so fond of, and her presence, her embrace of him, that sweet, smoky smell had a calming effect. "Oh, Padraigh," she had sighed, when he fell silent, "I have been watching Mor Ardain on behalf of the Praetor for a very long time now. It has saddened me so, to see her fall so far. But to hear your words is a comfort. I knew there was still beauty in this country. I knew there must be men of valor and honor left, pushed to the margins by the demons who now rule you." Her eyes had been hypnotic, large, glistening in the moonlight, and Padraigh, drunk as he had been, had the wherewithal to wonder if she was trying to seduce him as she pressed her body to his arm. "Men like you, they are the light of this country. Do not let them diminish you." Her voice had pierced through him, like it was buzzing inside his head. "Walk with me, sweet Padraigh. Let us talk more."

She had led him down hidden alleyways of Mor Ardain, streets that Padraigh had not known existed. Alleyways filled with the poor, the crippled, the maimed, the ruined bodies of Mor Ardain's wars, or simply men hiding from the war, all those Brionac did not find useful. Though, Padraigh considered, this must have certainly existed even before Brionac's current madness. Perhaps this had always been here, in his country, perhaps this downtrodden, rejected and broken people had existed all along. Despite his misgivings of her, Armalia was apparently a minor celebrity in these parts. As she passed, hungry hands reached out towards her, weeping faces blessed her, and she stopped to offer words of comfort and love to all, even just simple affection to these people who found none in a country who had no use for their broken bodies. Her robes became stained with dirt and filth as she offered affectionate embraces and soothing words to the crippled and broken, and she did not seem to mind, though she always returned to Padraigh's arm, leaning her head against his shoulder, murmuring to him of what the Praetorium was like. She confessed she had been helping some of these destitute and broken, some of those men who would be executed for treason should Brionac find them, flee to the Praetorium. And Padraigh wondered what state his country had come to, that refugees from its own government might exist. And she had asked him of the other wars, other battles he participated in, and how long his doubts had existed. And Padraigh found himself confessing to her that even long before this, he had become increasinly uneasy about the path his country was on.

Finally, their path had led them to a small, ramshackle building. The 'unofficial' Indoline embassy, Armalia had murmured by his side. Padraigh had turned to her, only to find her face glistening with tears in the moonlight. He had been surprised by this – nothing in her voice had betrayed the appearance of tears. And he had been even more surprised when Armalia drew him in and kissed his forehead. "I apologize," she had said, as he drowned in her eyes, "I know I must seem...strange, to you. I am strange for an Indoline. Ever since I was young, my heart has burned with passions unusual amongst my countrymen. I love, sweet Padraigh. I love most everyone I meet. I believe the Praetor recognized this about me, and that is why he sent me here to your country at this point in time. What you need is love." She had twined her hands in his, smiling through her tears. "You are beautiful. Fear not. Brionac's rule is but the passing of a shadow. Judgment and justice will come to them swifter than you might think. Their reckoning is closer at hand than you might realize. And I want – the Praetor wants – to see the beauty of Mor Ardain restored. I have been looking for men like you, who still hold the sweet flame of Mor Ardain's greatness close to heart." She had pulled him in then, to whisper seductively in his ear. "Come with me," she cooed. "I must away soon, back to the Praetorium….come with me. Come meet with Amalthus. He wants to meet men like you, who will restore sanity to the Empire. Accompany me….at my side. This is the path, dear heart. This is the path to salvation."

As she spoke, she had wound her arms around him, as surely as her words had wound their way around his heart. The feeling of her body pressed against his, the smell of incense, her wide, glittering eyes, her strange, exotic beauty, lips inches from his-

Padraigh had pushed her away. It was all too hypnotic, too seductive. He would not be able to refuse her when he could feel her heart fluttering against his chest. And not just her obvious physical seduction. She was telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. That there was a path forward, and it lay far away from all this. That running would make it all better.

It was all to convenient to hear. "I cannot," he had told her.

She had considered him oddly for a moment, and then she really had pulled him in and kissed him, her lips hard against his for a long, dizzying moment. "_Please,"_ she had whispered emphatically in his ear after she broke the kiss, sending chills down his spine. "I need you. Only in the Praetorium can I guarantee your safety. Brionac will certainly kill you if they learn of your heart."

But Padraigh had pushed her away once more. "No. I cannot run. I need to witness the reality of my failure to act."

Armalia had looked at him with disappointment plain on her features, and then seemed thoughtful, considering for a moment. And then for a strange second, it seemed as if love and seduction had poured from her in waves, so strong and so magnetic that it almost made Padraigh stagger and fall. In that second, he would have reconsidered everything he had just said. He would have done anything to stay by her side, to hear her voice and feel her lips upon his, to feel that bright light of love that poured from her. But then she sighed, as if reconsidering, and the moment was over, and she was merely a very pretty woman again. "Foolish," she said, but she was smiling sadly at him. "To see it will only break your heart. But you are a man, after all. Strange creatures, you can be. Sometimes I think you enjoy your own suffering. At least take this." And she had reached inside her robes, and handed him a thick gold ring of a dragon devouring its own tail. "Take it, and remember me, and the Praetorium. Remember our offer of alliance, for we may have want of you in the future." She had given him a very coy look, placing heavy emphasis on the word 'want'.

And then she had left him, walking away, and though her robes covered most of her figure, she somehow swayed her hips beneath them in a way that had left Padraigh's mouth dry.

Padraigh rolled this ring in his hand now, considering. What exactly was the Praetorium playing at, here? What was Amalthus' game? Trying to seduce him away to Indol? Some vague offer of alliance? Perhaps he really should have gone with Armalia. Maybe with his head clear of drink, he would have even been able to stay away from her bed. But the reality was he still needed to see, with his own eyes, the horror he was a part of now.

He clenched the ring in his fist. His service as Inspector General had earned him an invitation from Brionac to the command room during the invasion. With a heavy heart, he turned away from his view out into Alba Cavanich, turned away from the marching legions of the Empire beneath the red flags of their homeland, and made his way through the palace.

On his way to the great glass and gold elevators to the command room, he passed by Nelson, dressed in his battle regalia. Nelson's gaze drifted over him, and then the man actually gave him a warm smile and a nod. Padraigh felt his heart freeze. He had seen the legacy of Nelson's handiwork in Gormott. The mass graves, the blackened remains of cities and villages. To have his approval was almost enough to make Padraigh sick.

But as he stepped off the elevator, and made his way down a long palace hallway, beneath the gaze of painting after painting of Mor Ardain's emperors, he mused that Nelson was not the Brionac Commander that most frightened him.

The command room was large, regal, its floors tiled in black and swirling gold patterns, its furniture a deep black leather. A large window opened into the room, bathing it in rich light, looking out onto the Cloud Sea. Padraigh could see Uraya out in the distance – the command room was positioned so that this window would give a look out towards wherever the Ardainian titan was headed, almost as if it was giving you a perspective of what the titan itself saw. Surrounding the room were a number of radio stations, manned by various technicians and soldiers. From these stations were relayed orders to a number of nerve control centers dotted around Mor Ardain, great facilities that had drilled down deep into the Titan's nervous system, that gave the Empire control over its movements. And in the center of the room was a large, round table of smooth black stone, covered with various maps and markers, stacked high with intelligence reports, and around it milled various high-ranking command officers, like specters of death in their long black coats pinned with grinning silver skulls. And there, scanning a report, was Supreme Commander Richard Casey. Casey's eyes met his as he entered the command room, chilling Padraigh to the bone. It was not because Casey was particularly bloodthirsty. Quite the contrary. Padraigh feared Casey because there was something about the Supreme Commander that reminded him of himself. And yet here he was, as committed to the war as any Brionac officer could be. Facing him always made Padraigh question, if history had been different, would he be standing where Casey was now, one of the leaders of this horror and madness?

"Supreme Commander," one of the officers was saying, "Indol has repositioned itself to the southwest. And there is still the matter of the reports from Temperantia. Since the initial reports of an attack, we've heard nothing back from them. All attempts to hail them by radio have failed."

Casey paused to consider this for a moment. "Let Amalthus watch," he murmured finally. "No, there is nothing that could stop this now. The Temperantian garrison...they would have been helpful, but not vital to our plans. Inform Nelson that he may not be able to count on their aid. Tell the Seventh Armada to maintain a perimeter around Indol. And send a cruiser out to investigate the Temperantian situation. The H.M.S. Dragon's Fire. It has the lightest armor and the newest generation auxiliary engines. It should make the best time." The Supreme Commander drew himself up, sighing. "I must be off to my flagship, now. I will be in contact with you from the field."

As Casey left, he paused by Padraigh, who still stood by the door. He looked Padraigh up and down, evaluating, as if he saw something in him. And then he leaned in close, to whisper in the Inspector

General's ear. "This is it, Padraigh," he said quietly, so that no others in the room could hear. "We can't ever go back."

Padraigh stared at the Supreme Commander, eyes wide, as Casey patted him on the shoulder, then swept out into the hallway, disappearing into the dark shadows of the palace.

Eventually, Padraigh sat down in one of the luxurious leather chairs seated by the window, looking out across the Cloud Sea. Uraya drew ever closer. Artillery fire erupted in the distance, and he watched as fireballs speckled the surface of Uraya. Large, glittering black airships drifted into view before him, first a handful, then dozens, then hundreds, stretching out in the sky, mirrored in the Cloud Sea by Mor Ardain's navies, the Empire's armadas racing out in front of its titan to meet the Urayan naval and air defenses. It wouldn't be long, now. Only moments before they were within range of each other.

He heard the door open behind him, and then heard one of the officers snap, "What are _you _doing here?"

Padraigh turned around. There in the doorway stood Niall. The boy looked like death. His face was drawn, gaunt, pale, dark circles beneath his eyes. His imperial robes hung loosely on him, as if he had not been eating well lately. But what was most shocking was the look of resignation and despair on his face. No child should ever feel that way. Architect's love, what had they done to him?

Niall merely nodded at the glaring officers, who had frozen around the table to stare at him, and gave them a crooked smile. "I am your Emperor," he said quietly. "Is it not my duty to monitor the progress of the invasion?"

The officers shifted around, glacing at one another. Then finally, they shrugged, and turned back to the table, ignoring Niall entirely.

Padraigh watched as Niall took a deep breath, and then, on shaky legs, made his way over to the window, to take a seat next to him, gazing out at the Cloud Sea, a hand to his forehead. This boy, this child, who had done so much to stop the war. So much, when Padraigh had been given the opportunity to help, and had chosen to do nothing. Padraigh felt a deep shame as he looked at Niall. After all, Niall had the foresight to break with tradition to stop this. The Emperor traditionally worked with the Senate. But Niall had defied that, fighting the Senators every step of the way to put an end to this war. Where this child had had the courage to defy convention, Padraigh had not. "Niall," he said quietly, "I'm...sorry. You should go back to your apartments. Don't force yourself to watch this."

Niall did not look at him, instead, he just continued to watch out over the Cloud Sea. "The least I could do," the Emperor murmured, '"is bear witness to the price of my failures."

"They aren't just yours," Padraigh replied, pain cracking his voice. What had they done to him? What had Brionac done to Niall? No child should be so broken. "It's all of us. We all failed."

Niall merely gave him a wan smile, then returned to watching the window.

And a moment later, Mor Ardain's and Uraya's navies and airships were within range of each other. They watched together, as with the unholy howl of a thousand rockets, the sky bloomed into flame.

**TICK **

The city was quieter, now, as Rex's party and the Praetor made their way down from the Sanctum to the docks. Some of the initial panic over the invasion had died down, as people became accustomed to the distant roar of artillery and bombs, although that thunder seemed to grow with intensity with every passing moment. But it was not aimed at them, so the citizens of Indol either hunkered down in their homes, or crowded the streets where there was a view of the Cloud Sea, looking out over it at the ongoing war. Though when they saw the Praetor accompanying Rex, they quickly scurried out of the way, parted to make a path, though Amalthus did little more than nod at them.

Morag kept glancing out over the Cloud Sea whenever it came into view, as they made their way through the streets. She could see Mor Ardain and her Armadas, raining ruin and flame upon the Urayan fleets. One thing, she supposed, that she should be grateful for, was that Mor Ardain's might was so great and overwhelming that there was no risk that the Urayans might break through to strike at the Empire. If she thought her brother might be in danger, she didn't know if she could keep her sanity. Niall, she decided, had to come with her. After this, she would return to Mor Ardain, and she didn't care if he was the Emperor, he was going to come with her no matter his protests. The sweet boy had done all he could to stop this, and there was nothing left for him there. She had to get him away from the madmen who ruled the Empire now. She didn't care if she had to fight her way through them all. She'd bring Niall with her. Perhaps settle him down in Fonsett? Somewhere remote, while she quested for Elysium. Somewhere where the darkness that infected Mor Ardain now would not be constantly beating down upon him. The thought of retrieving Niall soothed her, a bit, from the distress she had been feeling about the war. She always felt better when she had a goal.

They avoided their refugee camps, on the way down through Indol's streets, though as they passed nearby, they could hear the sounds of shouting and cries of anger. Though the Indoline citizens had calmed somewhat, it seemed the refugees were venting their anger, their outrage. And why not? So many of them were refugees from Mor Ardain's wars. Why would they not be outraged by the sight of the Empire's latest crimes, played out in the sky before them?

Gramps was waiting for them there, at the docks, when they had finally made their way through the city. Rex boggled at the sight of him. His stone hide had been polished to a gleam, and grand golden banners streamed from the long horn that protruded forth from his face. The ramshackle seats that Tora had constructed for him had been replaced with a massive saddle of rich, dark leather and luxurious blue cushions, split into enough seats to fit them all. Even the grass on his back looked like it had been trimmed and combed. He was craning his neck forward to murmur something unintelligble to the Indoline priest at his side – Rex recognized her as the same one who had greeted them at the docks, who had been so excited to see Gramps – and….Architect, she was giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl. Rex wasn't sure he wanted to know what was going on there.

When she spotted them, and in particular, the Praetor, her eyes grew wide, and she quickly schooled herself to the typical Indoline stoicism, though a faint blush still lingered on her cheeks. "Greetings, Praetor. Wielder of the Aegis. Your….noble steed…" she flicked her eyes towards Gramps, and he winked at her, and her mouth twitched as if she was containing mirth - "has been prepared." Finally her stoicism broke, and she smiled widely at Rex. "Oh, I do hope you return. Azurda is such a charming conversationalist. I-"

"Matriarch," Amalthus said, coolly, the weight of his gaze falling upon her. "You may leave us."

The Indoline priestess shut her mouth furiously, eyes growing wide with awe and humiliation at this direct order from her Praetor, and she bowed hastily before scrambling away from the docks, though she did not leave without turning around and offering Gramps one final little wave.

Fan watched her go, a small smile growing on her face. "I did warn you, you'd have a lot of fans here," she murmured to Gramps.

"A welcome change of pace," the Titan rumbled, preening. "Such a nice facility they have set up here. Polishes, massages. I feel eight hundred years younger." He shook his head, and then gazed downward at Rex. "I have heard that your mission now is to capture Mythra."

Rex nodded, and without hesitation, stepped into the stirrups of the new saddle Gramps wore, hoisting himself up onto his back. "That's right," he said, his voice full of bravado. You would have to listen very carefully to hear the concern and doubt there.

"Rex," Gramps said quietly. "Are you sure that's the best idea…?"

Before Rex could answer, a thundering crack, a roar louder than any of the bombs, echoed across the Cloud Sea, and there was a fresh wave of screams of horror and awe that swept over the city. Their heads whipped around to look out at the war.

Mor Ardain's lumbering footsteps had bought it close to the writhing, massive form of the whale-Titan of Uraya. One of its hands now gripped the Urayan Titan by the side, the land beneath it blackened and cratered. They watched in shock as it raised its other arm, sending it plummeting to the top of the Urayan Titan's backs, plumes of dust and smoke rising, and a moment later, yet another loud thundering crack roared across the Cloud Sea. Seas of flame washed over the surface of Uraya as the airships surrounding Mor Ardain poured their rockets and their fury onto it where the hand had touched down.

Morag tried hard not to think of the hell on earth the Urayans must be facing.

"Well," Rex said quietly, when the screams of the city had died down, "We need her to get to Elysium. And it's pretty clear that we need it more than ever."

"I do not know how your efforts will go, Rex," the Praetor said, as the party clambered onto Gramps' back, "But I will say that you have good odds of capturing her. She is not invincible, and you have strong allies with you that have defeated her before. If you are successful, Indol is open to you. We have facilities and the capability to contain her, without Fan needing to maintain her powers upon her. I do recommend that you follow the flight paths I have laid out. They will get you to Temperantia the fastest, while avoiding the attention of Mor Ardain's fleets. I cannot say what they may do to anything that enters their range at this point."

Rex nodded, standing upon Gramps' back, holding onto one of the stony protrusions on the back of his neck. "Thank you for all the help, Praetor."

"Not at all," Amalthus replied, the wind whipping around him as Gramps unfurled his mighty wings and took off, shooting into the sky.

Even as the Praetor, and Indol itself, disappeared into the distance, Nia could feel his hunger.

**TOCK**

Zuo sat perched on a boulder in one of Uraya's massive internal caverns, dimly lit by the soft green glow of bioluminescent mushrooms crawling up the walls, looking at a locket he held in his hands. It held a picture of a young Urayan girl, face speckled with freckles, a large toothy grin across her face, a gap where her two front teeth should be, hugging a laughing Urayan boy fiercely as she waved at the camera. His sister, Merana, and himself, when he was young. Laughing, boastful Merana, always quick with a challenge or a dare. Merana, who, even as she was stationed upon a warship, sent him gag gifts when she could, packages that would explode with confetti in his face when he opened them, or cookies baked with sand, or some other foolishness. Merana, who had sunk beneath the Cloud Sea forever when her warship was shot down by Ardainians.

Zuo sighed, closing the locket, then winced as muffled explosions roared somewhere high above, outside the cavern, shaking the walls, sending gravel and dust showering down from high above. The Ardainian bombardment had begun some time ago. Zuo had almost not believed it when intelligence reports had come in about the Ardainian battle plans. They were going to forego a direct attack on Fonsa Myma itself, which Zuo had thought would be the logical starting point for a conquest. But apparently the Ardainians were more perceptive than he gave them credit for. They knew the strength of Uraya lay in its mercenary forces scattered in many camps scattered across Uraya, and less so in its government forces. Their plan was to spread out across Uraya first and annihilate their mercenary forces before bothering with the capital. The madness lay in their approach. To deliver the required number of forces, Mor Ardain had recalled the greater part of her armies from all across Alrest, and to deliver them, was planning on directly controlling their Titan to reach into Uraya itself, so that her men might march directly down the Ardainian Titan's arm onto Urayan soil. Zuo's heart had frozen with fear when he realized what this meant. Uraya would not merely be facing an Ardainian invasion. Uraya would be facing nearly the full might of all of Mor Ardain's legions.

The Urayan response was desperate. Mercenaries may boast, but everyone knew there was no way Uraya could resist a commitment by Mor Ardain of that size. Once they had seized a foothold on Urayan soil, they would never be driven out. And so the plan was to draw the Ardainians into Uraya's system of caves from the moment they set foot on Uraya, which Urayan mercenaries knew much better, and make them pay for every inch with blood. Even then, Zuo knew, it was certainly hopeless. The most they could do was try to convince Mor Ardain that the amount of dead men they'd have to accept was not worth the price of surrender. But he did not know how likely that was. If Mor Ardain was willing to send the majority of her armies to Uraya, it seemed as if they were fairly committed.

He looked up, gazing out over the large encampment before him. Mercanries and soldiers of the Monarchy alike intermingled among hundreds, thousands of tents, stretching out as far as the eye could see, dotted with campfires and bonfires. Not that there was much difference between the two now. Most everyone was on the government's pay these days. Normally mercenaries had contempt for soldiers, who they saw as too subservient to the Queen and inexperienced, to boot. But the approaching war had washed away any tensions that might exist between the two. Now, they joked and sang and drank together, occasionally glancing upward nervously as another explosion echoed throughout the cavern. Among the soldiers moved humongous, hulking beasts, covered in plate armor, large horns bladed and strung about with streamers. These were the War Ardun, probably Uraya's greatest defense against the mechanized forces of Mor Ardain. They had been bred over generations to be much large and more resilient than normal Ardun, each at least three times the size of their smaller cousins, their hide more than enough to resist small arms fire, their every step an earthquake, capable of carrying a full platoon of men on the carriages and carriers built into their backs.

"Zuo."

Zuo glanced down from his perch on the boulder at the source of the voice. It was his blade, Sordai. Sordai was a blade of indistinct appearance – while there were some blades that had undergone a unique evolution sometime during their lives, like Roc, Sordai was not one of these. He looked humanoid, of a height with Zuo, perhaps a bit taller, thought it was hard to tell beneath the white and black plate armor his blade wore. His glowing blue eyes burned brightly beneath his helmet. Zuo still remembered the day he had awokened Sordai, how sorely jealous Merana had been that he could attune to blades and that she could not. He knew some blades were very emotional, but Sordai from the moment of his awakening had been strictly professional. But as the years wore on he had learned of his blade's subtleties, his quiet and stoic personality, and countless battles had forged a bond between them. Sordai was his brother in arms, much more than even any of the men in Garfont. "It is time for the final radio communication from the Queen," Sordai said, pointing off into the distance to a large, circular, garishly colored tent – the field command. "Though I don't know the point, given how little her orders tend to be followed."

Zuo snorted, leaping down from the rock. As the new leader of Garfont, he had been given an invitation from the Queen to join her council of mercenary chieftains who were remaining in Fonsa Myma to coordinate the defense from afar. Honoring Vandham's memory, he had refused them. The chieftains who had taken her up on the offer had all done so reluctantly, fearing their men thinking them cowards – though Zuo could not fault them. It would pay to have a command away from the front lines should things go poorly.

His bloody takeover of the Garfont mercenaries had not been the way he had wanted things to go. But Vandham had never understood what Zuo knew viscerally. Mor Ardain could not be saved. Vandham, though Zuo had respected him immensely and loved him, had always maintained a naive faith that peace might be possible. Zuo could not blame him. After all, there were – well, there had been – many Ardainian members of Garfont. Like Yew, who Zuo had loved like a brother. None of them had believed in the war. And even Morag – though he was not sure he believed her – claimed that she had not supported the war either. But what Vandham didn't understand was that _none of that mattered. _Of course the men he talked to did not support the war – they were _specifically _those Ardainians that had fled their home nation in disapproval of its actions. None of that mattered, none of it at all – because the Ardainians in charge of the Empire clearly DID support the war. It was never going to stop. Peace was a fool's hope. And when news had reached him of Vandham's death, fury had overtaken him. Not only because Vandham was his mentor and friend. But because he had been the single greatest war asset Uraya had, and Vandham had been wasted cooperating with some Ardainian royalty for a peace that was never going to exist, for a stupid child's dream of Elysium. There was only one thing that was going to stop the Empire. Mountains of dead Ardainians.

And he had expected loyalty from Garfont. Even from the Ardainians there. He thought Vandham's death might finally make them see. But had Yew seen…? No. Yew _still_ argued with him. Even in the face of Vandham's death, when Zuo thought, at last, there might had been unity of purpose, Yew _still_, even at that late hour, insisted on holding on to a foolish hope of peace. It had driven Zuo mad. Playtime was over, the time for forlorn hopes was over, and still this damned Ardainian had eroded the certainty of purpose they should all be feeling. Zuo had lashed out at him, attacked him, something he still regretted, and the camp had quickly split between Urayans and Ardainians, brother fighting brother. Though truth be told, there had been some Urayans who fought side by side with the Ardainians in that struggle, and some Ardainians that had stood by Zuo. When Zuo's side had finally stood triumphant, it had pained him to cast those Ardainians out. But he could not afford doubt, could not afford even the slightest glimmer of disunity in Garfont now. Those who did not know the reality of war, and the unity it required, could not stand by his side. That action had caused some of the Urayans who had fought with him to defect, as well. Which was fine. It had left him with a core of loyal, dedicated Urayans, though less than half the number of the original Garfont mercenaries, who knew what a war for survival would take.

Zuo made his way to the command tent, following a winding dirt path through the high grass covering the ground of the cavern, Sordai following silently behind him.

The interior of the command tent was covered with furs, and in the center of the tent was a large, worn old stump, carved into a table, on which rested one of the limited supply of radios that Uraya had access to. Various high-ranking mercenaries and soldiers stood around the tent, the soldiers in the thick, bulky armor the monarchy supplied, the mercenaries usually in lighter, more makeshift, personalized gear of leathers and cloth, particularly those who had blades at their side. Zuo glanced around, and quickly noticed the pale, drawn, fearful faces. "What is it?" he asked. "What's happened? Someone speak."

The men in the tent glanced at each other, no one wanting to say anything. Finally, one of the blades – a woman in a dress of white metal plate armor, with pauldrons and humongous axe of glowing pink crystal – spoke up in hushed tones. "The Queen," she murmured, not meeting Zuo's eyes. "She's dead."

"Dead…?" Zuo whispered. It hardly seemed real. Raqura was a woman of domineering, jovial strength and easily exasperated temper, full of roaring life. It seemed strange to think of her as dead. He simply could not picture her as a corpse. "How…? Did they strike at Fonsa Myma after all?"

"No," sighed one of the mercenary captains, an older man of silver hair and clever eyes, and a wiry thin frame, small for an Urayan. "They sent assassins. It's not just the Queen, Zuo. All the chiefs with her, the whole court, they're all dead. At least the assassins themselves didn't get away. Some of the military advisers the Praetorium sent cut them down." The mercenary shrugged. "Pity they hadn't captured them. But death's justice all the same."

Zuo collapsed into one of the fur-draped chairs in the tent, putting his head in his hands. The war hadn't even started in earnest, and already the Ardainians had managed to cut off their head. Slowly, he became aware of most everyone in the tent staring at him. He realized that with the imperial court and strategic command gone, he was now one of the highest ranking members of what passed for the informal officer corps among the mercenaries. It was an ad-hoc affair at the best of times, most relying on the reputation of their group to lend them authority over other military chieftains. But as one of the remaining mercenary chiefs – and the new leader of Vandham's famous Garfont mercenaries – that...that may well make him the ranking officer on the field. Not just Garfont would be looking to him for leadership, now. The whole of the Urayan forces would be.

Zuo felt fear rise in his heart as destiny placed this mantle upon him. He was not prepared for this. He had expected to lead Garfont in battle, yes, he had expected to be part of the war council – he had not expected to be its leading voice. But he closed his eyes, and pictured the laughing face of his sister. This was for her. This was for Merana. He would not let fear rule him. If history asked this of him, he would do his best to rise to the occasion. It was all he could do. "Alright," he said, rising to his feet, looking about the room at the fearful and quiet men and blades around him. They needed reassuring. "Well. Raqura, bless her soul to the Architect's grace, I loved her, but we always knew that whatever orders she had for us would have been mostly ignored, didn't we?"

That elicited a quiet chuckle from a few of the mercenaries in the room. Some of the soldiers frowned disapprovingly, but others gave wry smiles.

Zuo nodded. "Nothing has changed. We all have our plans already." He pointed upwards, towards the sky, just as another explosion echoed throughout the cavern. "We've already got Ardainians knocking at our door. I think you all should return to your men and get ready. I am going to the cavern's entrance to monitor the field. I will relay my _recommendations-" _this elicited another small chuckle from the mercenaries - "From there, to your radios. For the love of the Architect, keep those running. Lives depend on them."

He exited the command tent, flagging down a nearby Ardun's handler for a ride to the cavern entrance. Though the man was the leader of a small platoon that rode on the beast's back, he did not quesiton Zuo's authority. The cavern was enormous, and the path to the entrance winding – to walk there would have taken far longer than Zuo was willing to wait. He could feel, beneath the shaking of the explosions, a deeper, heavier vibration, more rhythmic, more regular. And he knew what that was. It was the Ardainian Titan's footsteps on the bottom of the Cloud Sea. It was very close now.

As they approached the cavern entrance, the roar of explosions became more frequent. The cavern entrance was humongous, at least thirty feet tall and one hundred feet wide, and the winding path led up to it, so that it was a portal out onto the sky. And as they approached, all that Zuo could see of the sky was flame, screaming rockets leaving black trails and plumes of smoke behind them as they roared overhead, airships exploding, crashing, plummeting to the earth.

He leapt down from the Ardun, rushing forward to the entrance, Sordai's spear appearing in his hands in a flash of ether sparks as he did so.

The men at the entrance to the cavern – hardened veterans though they might be – were broken by the sight of what lay before them. Some of them were shaking, trembling, their teeth chattering with fear, their blades at their sides trying to comfort them. Others were on their knees, praying. "Architect preserve and shelter us," they cried, staring out at what was coming for them. "Architect guide and protect us. Architect save us from the Clockwork Demon."

And as Zuo reached the entrance, and looked out upon the vast field before them, leading out to the Cloud Sea, he understood their terror.

Mor Ardain had summoned hell. The sky, the sea, was awash with flame, thick pillars of black smoke rising from burning ships, and in the air hung hundreds, hundreds of Ardainian warships, rockets screaming back and forth between them and their Urayan counterparts, hanging in the sky like black fortresses defying gravity. There was not an inch of sky or sea not filled with smoke, or rocket, or flame, or burning ship, or Ardainian ship raining hellfire down upon the Urayan navy and airships. And at the center of it all, haloed by a burning red sun, so that all could be seen of it was its dark Shadow, was the monolithic, gargantuan humanoid figure of the Ardainian Titan, close now, close enough that every step it took flooded more of the field before them in the darkness of its shadow. And, indeed, it looked like nothing more than the Clockword Demon of propaganda, the Ardainian armadas its attendant angels of death.

Zuo had told himself he would not let fear rule him. But for a long moment, he was paralyzed by this sight, by the hell of war before him.

And then, with a long, howling groan, like a thousand tortured hinges being forced open, the Ardainian Titan slowly raised its arms, and began reaching out across the Cloud Sea, the shadow of its arm racing across the smoke and flame, racing towards them, as if the Clockwork Demon meant to reach out and crush him, specifically. Its other arm reached out as well, but swung out wide, to the side, almost out of sight – to grapple the Urayan Titan from the side, Zuo realized, to hold it in place.

That hand was humongous. Each finger was like a small mountain. Zuo knew the intelligence reports said this was what to expect, but even now, it was shocking to see. Mor Ardain was ruled by lunatics. That enormous hand, he realized suddenly, might look like it was moving slowly, but really it was rocketing towards them. And it was going to hit very close by. Like a meteor strike.

"Earth blades!" he screamed at the men around him. They looked at him questioningly, snapped out of their paralyzation by the desperation in his voice. "Earth blades! Tell them to reinforce the cavern walls and do what they can to stop the earthquake!" He jabbed his finger at the enormous black shadow hurtling towards them. "Pass the word back NOW! The blades, here, put up an ether shield by the cavern entrance! As strong as you can!"

The men took up the cry, bellowing at the top of their lungs, screaming over the sound of explosions, as the hand hurtled towards them. Zuo was thrown off his feet to the ground as the first hand, grappling Uraya from the side, made contact, Architect only knew how far away, the force of the impact even here causing an earthquake no man could hope to stand against.

And just a moment later, the second hand touched down in the field in front of him.

The world howled like it was ending. A blast of compressed air ripped through the field, tearing trees from their roots, sending them bouncing along the ground, as a humongous plume of earth and smoke arose from where the hand had landed. The blades screamed with panic as those hurricane winds slammed into the ether shield they had placed over the entrance. One of the men who was standing nearby the entrance, near a gap in the ether shields, where the blades had not quite covered, was hit by the force of the winds and sent hurtling backwards, to slam into the cavern walls with a sickening crack. Zuo fell to the ground as the cavern shook around them. Boulders fell from the ceiling, landing among the encampment, and mercenaries thrown to the ground by the force of the shaking screamed as they rolled out of the way, not always in time. The war Arduns bellowed in panic, a low, keening sound.

And then, a humongous wave of earth, a ripple sent forth from the hand's impact, roared across the field. And Uraya screamed. Zuo did not know if it was the Titan itself, or merely the sound of the earth being rent, but it was a howl of anguish that contained so much more pain than a mere human could possibly feel. The blades holding their ether shields gritted their teeth and dug in their heels, ether lines in their bodies pulsing with energy as they did all they could to protect the humans in the cavern, the yellow energy of their merged ether shields burning brighter than Zuo had ever seen. Boulders the size of houses bounced off it, cracking in two. They cried, screaming out for help, that they could not hold on, as their human partners concentrated as hard as they could on the ether bond, on maintaining the connection as strongly as they possibly could, and the world broke around them.

Finally, to Zuo's amazement, it ended. And there, across the field – though it could no longer properly be called a field, it was a ruin of cracked earth and rubble – through the clearing dust, like a cancerous mountain range growing from the skin of Uraya, five blasphemous peaks, was the hand of Mor Ardain, the hand of the Clockwork Demon. A hot blast of desert air suddenly made the cavern's temperature jump, the heat of Mor Ardain's dying Titan radiating off of it in waves. The Ardainian Titan itself leaned over the landscape, towering, as if searching for them with scouring eyes.

Zuo scrambled to his feet, ripping a pair of binoculars from his pack. He scanned quickly across the ruined earth, the humongous crater from which these mountains now rose. And he gasped as he saw men traveling across that field. Men on war Arduns, weighed down with humongous packs laden with mines and bombs, coming from some other cavern entrance far to his east. The sappers, of course. The plan was to rig Mor Ardain's entrance to Uraya with mines, booby traps and bombs as soon as it touched down, before the Ardainians could travel down the arm. But…

Zuo raised his binoculars to the skies. An Ardainian flagship had broken through the Urayan airship lines, at least five times larger than the next largest battleship, far larger than anything Zuo had ever thought could possibly fly, towering in the sky like a crenellated fortress, its hull emblazoned with a screaming silver eagle, attended at its left and right by three more battleships, though they seemed like small, cowering black beetles next to the massive nightmare of the flagship. As he watched, dozens, hundreds of turrets on the ships swiveled with decisive malice to train themselves upon the sappers so bravely crossing the field.

"Architect, receive their souls with love," he said grimly, lowering the binoculars and looking away. There was nothing he could do.

A second later, the whistling, hellish screams of a thousand rockets tore through the sky. He had never thought a single ship could pack as much firepower as that flagship. The ground erupted in gouts of flame, the sappers vanishing in showering earth, as a barrage of rockets and bombs fell around them in an unrelenting, hellish rain. At least with the explosions, he did not have to hear their screams. He raised his binoculars to the sky once more, watching the flagship.

Its grim business with the sappers done, the flagship paused for a moment, hanging silent in the sky. Suddenly a mighty horn bellowed from it, a single, deep, alien blast. And then it turned, slowly, inexorably, against that flame-darkened sky, before the shadow of the Ardainian Titan. Turned so that it directly faced Zuo. As if that enormous eagle painted on its hull was screaming right at him, swooping down to catch him in its gargantuan claws. As one, its turrets swiveled to point at the cave.

And then it opened fire.

Men fled, screaming, from the entrance, as the world erupted into flame. Zuo threw himself to the ground, saved only from a messy death by shrapnel by Sordai summoning his ether shield quickly. But it soon became clear that it was not _into _the cave the flagship was attempting to shoot. No, it was bombarding the very earth above it.

The massive cavern groaned, already weakened by the impact of the Ardainian Titan's hand. Earth blades once more put their hands to the cavern walls by the hundreds, reinforcing it with ether-summoned earth, crystal and stone, climbing up its walls to seal the deepening cracks. Zuo thought that, at first, surely it must hold. The stone above the cavern was simply too thick, the blades reinforcing it too many, for a few ships, no matter if one were an Ardainian flagship, to bring it down.

As if in response to his thoughts, the bombardment increased in strength, and became coordinated. No longer was it a constant pattering barrage. The ships began firing their rockets and bombs so that they would land together, and it was like being hammered by a Titan, with only a second's relief before the blows. The roar of the bombs was so loud Zuo thought it might drive him mad. Each blow sent cracks ripping through the cavern walls, men screaming in panic, and, mad though it might be, as unthinkable as it might be, the flagship was doing it. It was going to tear a hole in the earth of Uraya itself and send this cavern crumbling down around them.

One of the mercenary captains ran to him, stumbling across the earth as it shook beneath his feet, his hand held up above his head to stop crumbling dust and sharp fragments of rock falling on him, helped to his feet when he stumbled by the blade Zuo had seen in the command tent, the maiden in the white plate-armored dress, studded with pink crystal. She must be his blade. He approached Zuo, a young man for a mercenary chief, fit and tall, dressed in fur and leathers, his face coated with dust and blood, eyes wide and panicked in a handsome face beneath dirty blond hair. "They're gonna collapse the whole damn cavern system on us!" he yelled, pointing behind him. "We have to get out of here! We have to fall back!"

Zuo knew he spoke sense. But they would never move the entire encampment in time – the caves that lead up to this one were too narrow for a mass retreat. But if they took to the field, those bombs would certainly begin falling on them, instead. And to retreat would give Mor Ardain the foothold it needed to never be driven out.

Zuo realized that unless he found an alternative – one that may not exist – the war was about to end right now.

He picked up his binoculars, once more scanning the field. He hoped to find some outcropping, some path, some miracle turned up by the churning of the earth, something to allow these men an escape. What he found instead was miraculous indeed, but very curious.

Running his sight over the massive, rocky protrusion of the Ardainian Titan's hand, he paused, and then doubled back. By some miracle, by some grace of the Architect, some of the sappers had survived. They had survived, and glorious bastards that they were, continued on their mission. Tired, shell-shocked men, certainly less than one in ten that had set out across the field, with shaky, trembling arms, were unloading mines and bombs from their war Arduns to begin laying them in the field around the Ardainian Titan's hand.

That any had made it was a miracle. But what was truly curious was that if _he _could see them, those nightmares hanging in the sky certainly could. Indeed, one of the battleships was hovering almost directly over them, as if trembling to rain hell down upon them. The sappers looked up at this with faces contorted by fear, even as they continued laying mines. And yet...it did not fire upon them.

Zuo considered this, as yet another barrage rent the cavern. The tormented rock squealed, shattering. "ZUO!" cried the mercenary captain.

"Get me a radio," Zuo replied. "Now! NOW!"

The captain looked at him as if he were mad, and then was tossed to the ground by another strike. "Agate, get the madman his radio, please. You've got better balance than me in this mess," he muttered to his blade, who nodded quickly, then bounded off on long legs that seemed to not feel the shaking of the earth. She returned quickly, cradling a radio in her arms; Zuo let her hold the transmitter as he took the silver microphone and tuned the frequency to the common one used by the Urayan airship captains above him.

"Is this Ground Command?!" a voice roared in relief over the radio as he identified himself. "We thought you boys were dead! We saw you taking a hell of a pounding! Titan's blood, I'm sorry. We tried to stop that damn flagship, but nothing we do even scratches it. We must have lost twenty ships to that thing alone-"

"Nevermind the flagship!" Zuo roared over yet another barrage. "I need you to test something for me! Something that might get this thing off our backs." He paused, closed his eyes, licked his lips, and spoke once more into the microphone. "If I'm right, you're going to have the Ardainian airships all over you. And a lot of you are going to die. But it might give us a chance down here."

There was the slightest of pauses. "Hell, son," the voice on the radio growled, "I didn't become a pirate because I wanted to live forever. Just tell us what you want."

Zuo gave his orders.

A moment later, there was a brief pause in the roar of rockets in the skies above, as a good portion of the Urayan fleet re-aimed their cannons. And then with a mighty roar, unleashed their fire upon the arm of the Ardainian Titan itself. The desert sands erupted, spilling onto Uraya in great avalanches, falling between the fingers of the Titan, as hundreds of impacts sent flame washing over the arm.

The Ardainian flagship turned quicker than Zuo would have thought possible of something that size, ceasing its bombardment of the caverns. Auxiliary engines roared to hellish life somewhere within, and it shot forward, rocketing into the skies, screaming rockets pouring from it in a rage, as it lashed out in fury at the attacking Urayan warships. "Look at that," Zuo roared in relief, pointing at the sky, grabbing Sordai and shaking him in an almost manic excitement. He couldn't help it. It just felt so good to be out of the piercing, hellish gaze of that silver eagle. "They didn't like that one bit!" Even stoic Sordai was smiling, laughing now that the bombs were no longer falling.

The mercenary captain wiped sweat and mud from his brow, unable to contain a relieved grin himself. "But...why?" he asked.

"Well, the Ardainian Titan is old and dying. And who knows what the hell they're doing to it to control its movements. Maybe they're nervous that taking too much fire could damage it too much. The point is, we know they won't use heavy fire on, or too close, to their own Titan." Zuo's mirth faded as the flaghip took its place high in the skies above and turned the Urayan lines into utter carnage. No fewer than five ships were falling from the skies in massive, roaring fireballs. "Architect's grace. We won't have much time, though."

"Time to what?"

Zuo turned to him, a manic glint in his eye. "Rouse the men, as quick as you can. Brook no argument. Now's not the time for squabbling. We need to get _on _that Titan."

It was a mad dash across the ruined field, and the greatest sacrifice of the crossing was that made by the assembled pirates, mercenary crews, and other assembled airships of Uraya's forces.

As Zuo began leading his ground troops across the ruined ground, cramming as many men as he could upon overloaded War Arduns, galloping until they foamed at the mouth from the strain, the great flow of men did not go unnoticed by Mor Ardain's airship Armadas. But as their battleships screamed towards the battlefield, straining to bombard and annihilate the men below, they found themselves blocked, even rammed, by the mad Urayan Captains and their crews, who gave their all against overwhelming odds to purchase their men on the ground the time to make it to safety. The Ardainian airship crews watched in disbelief as the Urayans piloted their battleships directly into them, thinking that surely they would not be that suicidal, only awakening to the reality of their desperation when Ardainian battleships began going down in flames, rammed and broken by the Urayans who went down with them. All the while, the rest of their ships bombarded the Ardainian Titan's arm, exposing themselves to enemy fire, all so that the greater portion of the Ardainian fleet would not disengage to prey upon the men below. Even the screaming Silver Eagle found itself stymied. Though it unleashed hell, annihilating dozens of ships, though Urayans who tried to ram it cracked uselessly upon its thick hull, yet other Urayans pulled up alongside to board it, trained as they were as pirates, leaping from the decks of their ships seconds before they were blown to splinters by the flagship, fighting like madmen, fighting like hell, fighting like they had nothing to lose, for they did not, against the shocked Ardainian crews manning her single deadliest weapon, though they were outnumbered twenty to one.

The cost of it all was the breaking of the Urayan air Armadas. As Zuo crossed, all around him, airships plummeted screaming to the earth, some Ardainian, true, but many more Urayan, erupting in humongous fireballs that reached into the sky, showering his troops with hot earth, and it was madness, madness, madness. But cross he did, with the greater part of his men, their eyes watching the skies, a great flood of Ardun, blades, men, and the few vehicles they had available to them, and as they crossed the madness of it all infected them, like a fire in their blood. And though they did not know it, they all had a bit of Vandham in them that day, as they stared in the face of death, running as fast as they could _towards _the towering nightmare figure of the Clockwork demon, and they laughed between gasps for breath, laughed at the madness, the insanity of it all, laughed as they ran towards what they must certainly have known were their own deaths.

Finally though, the ship of the Silver Eagle cleared her decks of suicidal Urayans, and like a dark star descended from the skies above, wreathed in the flame of her firing rockets, a harbinger of doom. But though she picked off the stragglers among Zuo's forces, the brave men bringing up the rear, those who had been noble enough to make sure that all those ahead of them made it, it was too late. The great mass of the Urayan armies had made it, hugging close to the Titan's hand, many of them already clambering up upon it, climbing those peaks to make room for the men below to get closer.

Zuo was one of those still on the ground when the Silver Eagle descended in all her horror and glory, hovering no more than a couple hundred feet above the ruined earth. He could have sworn it was shaking with rage. His eyes widened as he saw her turrets swivel to take aim, and he thought for a moment it was over, that Titan be damned, the Silver Eagle was going to open fire on him and his men after all.

But instead, the great black monstrousity slowly turned in the air. And with one final broadside, it turned to the caverns he and his men had exited from and collapsed them, the pounding fire of her bombs turning what had been his encampment, now abandoned, into a great sinkhole of rubble in the earth. And then it slowly turned back towards him, until the eagle painted on its hull was looking directly at him, its sharp silver eyes distinct against the black night of its armor, seeming to pierce through him. And stopped. Hanging there, waiting.

Zuo got the message. _You may be out of my reach now. But our forces will drive you back into this field, eventually. And I will eat you alive. _

"Really quite the jam you got us into this time, Zuo," his blade murmured at his side.

Zuo nodded, swallowing, and then turned to make his climb up onto Mor Ardain.

The great mass of Urayan men made the arduous climb up onto Mor Ardain's hand quickly. So massive were the Titan's fingers that they could spread out and find many branching paths up the steep slopes. Though the climb was exhausting, healing blades spread out among the marching men, offering what relief they could, soothing sore muscles with a touch, blessed for their efforts by thankful soldiers and mercenaries.

And up, past the sandstone paths, past the rocks stained black by the baking heat of Mor Ardain, up they climbed, towards the flame-stained sky, up towards the looming face of the Ardainian Titan and the airships that hung like doom around it, until finally, thousands upon thousands of men, thousands of war Arduns were on a great stretch of desert on the back of Mor Ardain's hand, a desolate place, so unlike their Uraya, sweltering in the heat, even in the shadow of a large hill that crested before them. Zuo marveled at the utter damnation of it all. The Ardainians _lived _in this? They drew life from this desolation? No wonder they were so mad. What life could possibly arise from this that was not full of malice?

"Zuo!" a voice cried, as he made his way through ranks of men staring about themselves in wonder, amazed that they were actually standing on the soil of Mor Ardain, standing on the Clockwork Demon itself. He shaded his eyes against the burning sun, and looked towards the source of the voice. There, at the top of the hill, was some of the command council. Only some, though. Zuo wondered if the others were already dead.

He made his way up the hill, sweating, already tired from the march up to the top of the hand. The young mercenary captain whose blade was Agate was there, and he nodded grimly to her as she handed him a pair of binoculars and pointed over the edge of the hill.

Zuo made his way up to the crest, laying down upon against the hot sand, thankful, despite the heat, for his leather vest that kept the desert from scorching his flesh, and looked through the binoculars at the scene before him.

The arm of Mor Ardain extended impossibly high, disappearing into darkness, the burning red sun haloing the Titan too bright to make out everything. But for as high as he could see, a black river ran down its arm, winding its way through the deserts and sands. He followed that river downwards from its shoulder, realizing soon enough that it was actually no river – it was the great winding march of Mor Ardain's legions. Though some marched on foot, many more moved forward in vehicles, massive trucks that could carry entire platoons. It was endless. The sunlight glinted red off their black armor, and as he followed it downward, he saw the host's vanguard, leading the legions – a great mass of tanks and armored vehicles – racing forward at incredible speed, their haste kicking up plumes of sand from the desert. There would be no reprieve. After their mad dash up onto Mor Ardain, the vanguard of her ground forces would be upon them too soon for the men to gain any rest. Zuo looked upon that host and saw within it the death of everything he knew.

He laid the binoculars down, wearily. "What do we do now?" whispered the mercenary captain. His voice was uncertain, full of fear. He knew what the answer was, but didn't want to hear it. "What do we do?"

Zuo looked out over the great mass of men spread out in the desert before him. He could already see officers and chieftains moving among them, telling them to ready themselves to battle, that there would be no time for rest, no time for reprieve, that the enemy would be upon them soon enough. He saw the fear in their eyes, hardened and experienced mercenaries though they might be, they had never faced the sort of annihilation Mor Ardain wished so dearly to visit upon them. "We die," Zuo said softly. "For our country."

He lifted himself to his feet, using Sordai's spear as leverage, as demoralized murmurs of discontent grew louder among the men below, shouts of outrage and horror. "Well, we're FUCKED," came a loud shout from the assembled ranks, accompanied by shouts of agreement.

Zuo stood at the top of the hill, framed by the sun, Mor Ardain's Titan rising high above him. "That's right," he bellowed, as loudly as he possibly could, over the din of the men below. Slowly, they quieted, turning towards him quizzically. Zuo shrugged. "That's right," he cried again. "We are fucked. Behind us," he said, pointing with the spear, back towards the path they had come from, back towards sweet Uraya, "Lie the predations of Mor Ardain's airships, who could tear us to ribbons with bombs and rockets." He swung his spear around, pointing past the crest of the hill. "And before us, lies the greatest host of forces in history, and the Clockwork Demon itself." He gave a manic, desperate laugh. "What were we thinking? Have the Ardainians ever been turned back from a conquest? Did we really think we could fight them off? This is a nation for whom war is its lifeblood. I mean, look at us. What was the original plan? Draw them into our caves? Make them fight for that first big cavern, and slowly retreat, right? And the first thing they did was turn that plan on its head. I mean, did you see that flagship? Did any of you expect they'd be able to bring the caves down around our heads?"

The men muttered among themselves, milling about uncertainly, even as they readied their weapons and began mounting their war Arduns.

"But, you know," Zuo said, after a pause, "I don't think everything is going according to their plan, either. I think they wanted to draw us out and chew us to bits on that field. Instead, look at where we are. On the ground of the Clockwork Demon itself. And turns out….it's no demon. No iron gear and hellfire." He stabbed his spear into the ground for emphasis. "Just a lot of sand and rock. Just like any other Titan. Just a lot shittier." He laughed, grinning maniacally. "In fact, we made it here because their Titan is so decrepit and weak, they're afraid to use bombs near it! Just _bombs. _Meanwhile, Uraya's taking punches from this thing like a champ!"

He leapt down from the crest of the hill, wrenching his spear free from the sands, spreading his arms wide, pointing upwards into the sky, towards the looming gaze of the Ardainian Titan. "They thought they were invading us, and instead, look at where we are. The greatest enemy force to stand on Ardainian soil in history. So yes, we may be fucked. But remember where you are. Know that their Titan is no Clockwork Demon. Know that the Empire is not the stuff of nightmare. They're men who can bleed and die like the rest of us. We already pissed all over their plans to bomb us to bits. Well, I say that now, we piss all over their plans to drive us off their shitty, weak Titan. As long as we're here, they can't rely on their bombs and rockets to do us in without a fair fight. So if we're going to die, SO WHAT? Did you become mercenaries and soldiers to die fat and old in your beds?"

"NO, I BECAME ONE TO GET LAID!" cried one of the men mirthfully, and Zuo barked a harsh laugh. The men were becoming more energetic. Zuo didn't know if it was his words, or if it was simply the insanity of all that was around them, the flame-lit sky, and their swiftly approaching deaths. They were men pushed to the brink, after all. Men with nothing to lose, who knew that they were going to die. An electric energy ran through him, as well. If it was death for him this day, he would die mad and happy.

"I say, if we're going to die, let's make them howl the name of Uraya before we go!" he roared, lifting his spear into the air, pointing it at the face of the Ardainian Titan. "I say, we become THEIR nightmares! If this is the end, let us take so many of us with them that they tell their children for GENERATIONS stories of the Urayans to scare them straight! If this is going to be their victory, let's make it so bloody they strike it from the history books in shame! We're dead either way, boys. Let's die with GLORY! They want this hand back, let's make them take it!"

The men before him laughed, their eyes lighting with some flame of madness, their blood coursing with renewed spirit and flame. Zuo didn't know if it would have been the sort of speech Vandham would have given. Probably not, he thought. Vandham would have tried to be more encouraging, somehow. Tried to give them some idea that victory was possible. He might have even believed it. He always was an optimist. But in the end, they didn't have Vandham anymore, did they. They had Zuo. And Zuo would have to do.

"Bring the war Arduns to the front," he said, giving a manic, insane grin. "I have a plan to make them bleed before we go."

Supreme Commander Nelson peered out from beneath his wolve's helm, face cloaked in shadow, as the wind whipped by him, looking out over the vast expanse of desert before him. It wouldn't be long now. The air even smelled sweeter. He could almost taste Uraya.

He was with the vanguard of the host, the vast array of his forces stretching out behind him, riding forward in the turret of a massive armored vehicle, a rectangular black truck thick with armor, bristling with gun ports where the platoon below could stick out their personal weapons and fire. He leaned against the weapon in the turret, a massive six-barreled gatling gun, swinging it back and forth idly.

Truth be told, he was not actually looking forward to the invasion. He expected it would be a loveless thing. With the forces arrayed against them, by the time the ground forces arrived, it would be a slaughter. The Urayans would be a bombed-out shell of themselves. Though Casey had messaged him to say that the Temperantian garrison, which were to act as shock troops before he arrived, may not be joining in the battle….even so. He had broken men often enough to know the Urayans would be overwhelmed before he even got there.

Though he would be glad to be off this damn arm. He had been warned to not use heavy weaponry while making his journey down it towards Uraya. The scientists in charge of the nerve control centers had warned that explosions ran a risk of eliciting a pain response from the Titan. The best he could hope for in that case would be earthquakes. The worst would be that the Ardainian Titan might whip its arm off of Uraya in pain, flinging all the men there into the Cloud Sea. What a shitty way to go. No glory, no nothing. They said it was a very, very low risk – after all, what was a bomb to a Titan? But they did not want to chance it. Frankly, Nelson didn't either. It had almost been enough for him to reconsider using the arm as a land bridge altogether. But this way, they wouldn't have to strip weapons from airships to use them as transport, and the Ardainian Armadas would be able to ensure that the Urayan airships were downed and burning before he arrived. Death from above was another way he considered a very shitty way to die.

As they rode along, he stared curiously at the desert they now passed through. It was pitted with craters and full of scorched sand. This area had very obviously been bombed. Well, at least it hadn't resulted in any earthquakes or tremors along the arm….but still. Casey had tried radioing him again some time ago, but the damn communications kept cutting out. Nelson wondered if these craters had anything to do with it.

"Sir!" his driver called to him, muffled, from down below. "Look ahead! Contact!"

Contact? Here? On Mor Ardain's hand? Nelson glanced ahead. They were in a bit of a valley now, a small dip before they reached the back of Mor Ardain's hand. The land sloped upwards steeply above them, a long incline of sand and obsidian rock. There, against the crest of the hill...his eyes widened. "BRAKE," he roared, swinging his hand above his head to signal to the other drivers in the vanguard. "BRAKE AND FORM STEEL!"

The hundreds of armored vehicles and tanks roaring along forming the vanguard screeched to a halt, their driver's pulling into place expertly so that they formed a wall made from their vehicles that stretched across the Titan's arm. The men manning the turrets all along the line – all gatling guns, like the one Nelson himself manned - swiveled them to point them up the hill.

For there, at the top of the hill, stood a long line of hundreds of war Arduns, the sunlight gleaming off their weaponized tusks. They were of impressive size – larger than the armored vehicles he traveled in, almost as large as his tanks. And on their backs, each carried a dozen or more Urayan men, riding along in great wood and cloth carriages built on their frames. "How the hell did they get here?" he mused. No matter. If the fools wanted death, Nelson was more than glad to give it to them. Perhaps things would be interesting after all.

With a sharp grin, he swiveled his gatling-gun turret to aim.

Zuo looked down the steep incline of sand and black stone before him, shimmering in the baking heat, perched high upon the back of a war Ardun. He looked upward at the hellflame-scoured sky, blazing with the billowing black trails of hundreds of screaming rockets, and the leering, monolithic face of the Ardainian Titan. He looked out at the cloud sea to his left and right, erupting with flame, rocked with explosions and a hundred burning ships. And he looked out at the host arrayed before him, a vast flowing river of black steel, guns and men, and the vanguard formed at its head, a wall of vehicles, some as large as a house, swiveling their turrets towards them.

He looked to his sides, at the line of war Arduns stretching across the crest of the hill, great, panting, roaring beasts, chomping at their bits. Even they seemed to be feeling this madness, this fire he felt coursing through his blood. And the men on their backs, as well. Each feared death, of course, as much as Zuo did. But knowing they were going to die, knowing there was nothing to be done, turned that fear into a sort of frantic energy, a madness for battle that seized them all. They laughed maniacally, roaring, shaking their guns, their weapons at the Ardainians. Somewhere, someone began a steady, throbbing beat on war drums, it was taking up by others, until the air rang with the steady, building beat, like the beating of a frantic heart against a chest.

"Zuo," Sordai murmured behind him, "It's been an honor."

Zuo raised his spear to point at that black vanguard who faced them now. "CHARGE," he roared.

And with the hellish thunder of a thousand crushing hooves, they set off down that slope, the ground shaking beneath them, beneath the scarred sky, towards the enemy host, and their own deaths.

Nelson shook his head as the charge began thundering down the steep slope towards them, a great flood of war Arduns, followed by men sprinting on foot, flowing down to meet his line. Fools. All that effort to fight their way here, only to be mowed down in a charge. Did they think their war Ardun would save them? Thick those beast's hides may be, and their armor too, but these turrets were of a caliber more than enough to pierce them. With a lazy flick, he disengaged the safety on his turret, and steadily aimed it at one of the charging Ardun. "FIRE," he drawled, as soon as it was within range.

A thousand guns roared to life, like the howl of some awful beast, and down towards the charge flowed a hellish hail, a river of bullets, and the empty shells fell like rain around them, piling in the sand.

But something was wrong. Nelson cursed as his bullets bounced uselessly off an ether shield projected by a blade on the Ardun's back. Oh, some of them fell, true, the war Arduns bleating as they collapsed into the sand, the men flying from their backs – a blade's shield was not invincible – but not nearly enough to break the charge. Snarling, Nelson focused on the closest Ardun, firing the rest of his belt, focusing the stream of his fire with deadly accuracy until the blade on its back was overwhelmed and his bullets tore into the men on its back. "RELOAD," he roared, reaching for a special red ammo box stored to the side of the turret. "RELOAD, ETHER-PENETRATING ROUNDS!"

These Urayans might think themselves clever, and against a lesser army their gambit might have been successful. But the Ardainians were long schooled in war, and had long since developed measures to counteract blades. Ether-penetrating rounds were too expensive to fire off in bursts. But that red ammo box contained an ammo belt where every tenth bullet was an ether-penetrating round, and a single bullet was more than enough to shatter a blade's ether shield.

There was a brief lull in the fire as the Ardainians reloaded, quickly, expertly, after firing off their current belts. Nelson quickly fed the ether-penetrating belt into his weapon, then glanced upward. His eyes widened. Those Ardun had covered ground more quickly than he thought they would. The distance between them had already halved. Still...it wouldn't matter. It was still more than enough distance to mow them all down. Surely.

He bought his turret up to fire once more.

The Urayans howled as they thundered down the slope, the crash and rumble of their Ardun's hooves blending with the steady, endless beat of the war drums. They screamed and roared defiance, even as the bullets began to fall among them, an endless shredding hail, pelting the sand beside them, crashing into their ether shields. They did not stop a moment for the fallen, they simply leapt over the dead.

Zuo laughed, a mad, roaring thing, as the Ardun fell beside him. For the first time since his sister's death, since Vandham's death, he felt free and happy. The strange madness he had felt at the beginning of the charge only increased as he thundered closer and closer to the Ardainian line. He felt as if he was moving in a dream, as if all the world was not quite real, as if he truly was invincible.

He glanced behind him to see his men, and his eyes widened. There, among his men, filling in the gaps of the charge where men had been cut down by gunfire, were ghosts. Smoky, hazy images, riding shadowy Arduns. Ghosts of the mercenary legends of Uraya's past, howling along with him, men of manic grins, long beards, some with blades at their sides, some without, carrying axes, swords, spears, holding them to the sky, howling defiance at the Ardainians, howling defiance at the end of the world. He did not know if they were delusions. But as he watched, it seemed the other living men in his charge saw them too, staring in wonder at the legends out of time in their midst, returned for this last charge.

He looked to his right. There was Vandham, in shadow and smoke, riding an Ardun, Roc at his side. His eyes blazed like lamplights in the swirling smoke of his face, and he nodded to Zuo, giving him a grim smile.

And there, on his left, riding another Ardun, was Merana. His sister wore thick plate armor, and carried a long spear, her long hair billowing wildly in the air behind her, woven through with flowers. She smiled sweetly at him, that smile he had missed so dearly since she had died, and Zuo sobbed and laughed at the same time. Here he was going to die, and yet he had never felt so alive. Not since she had left.

His heart throbbed in tune to the war drums, in tune with the stampeding thunder of the Ardun's hooves. He had never felt more powerful, his ether connection had never felt stronger. With a howl that he could not recognize as his own, he raised his spear, and lightning lanced out from it to strike at the Ardainian line.

Nelson was roaring fury, howling rage. Why weren't the ether-penetrating rounds _working?_ Just one round ought to be enough to shatter the strongest ether shields. Just a second or so of fire ought to be enough to send _hundreds_ of rounds roaring into the enemy, from a single gun. These Urayans ought to be dying in droves.

And yet, somehow, their ether shields held. They went down quicker than before, but not nearly as quick as they should. It was Bana, wasn't it, that little nopon shit. He was the one who manufactured this ammunition. He had cheaped out on them, hadn't he? Nelson decided on how the nopon Trade Prince was going to die. He was going to skin Bana alive.

The ground around him began to tremble with the force of the Urayan charge. Beside him, one of the vehicles was struck by a fork of lightning shooting forth from one of the drivers, exploding in a great gout of flame. Nelson threw his hand up to shield his face as he was pelted by hot shrapnel. Yet another vehicle further down the line disappeared in a massive fireball.

The men in the line began to glance at each other uncertainly. "FOCUS FIRE," Nelson roared at them. "THREE GUNS! Three guns on one driver! OVERWHELM THEIR SHIELDS!"

He turned around, to face the charge again, and his heart sang with fear even as his gun roared. The Urayans were nearly upon them. He could hear the war drums, now. Hear their mad howls, their laughter, see the foam dripping from the mouths of their Ardun.

It wasn't going to be enough. They weren't going to break the charge.

He heard the men beside him screaming in panic, their discipline finally breaking in the face of the Urayan's madness. "You beautiful bastards," he whispered, a happy smile crossing his face, as the charge bore down upon him.

A second later, the Arduns crashed into the line of vehicles, throwing them into the air, gunfire and blade sang out, and the battle was joined, the Urayans howling to their deaths beneath a smoke-darkened sky.

**TICK**

The flight to Temperantia would have been much shorter, were it not for the war. Temperantia itself lay to the south of Uraya, almost directly behind the struggling Titan's thrashing tail, and to reach it they had to swing wide around Mor Ardain. Though they did draw closer to the battle as Gramps flew, the awful din of war growing louder and louder, until Rex thought it might drive him out of his mind.

He refused a seat, instead remaining standing on Gramps' back, the howling wind whipping his hair as he hung on to the Titan's neck for purchase, staring fixated upon the war unfolding in front of him. It felt so much like cowardice to not be there, to not try to do something, anything, to stop it. But he was powerless. The Praetor was right, he had no options to end this. But it didn't stop him from feeling like such a coward, a failure.

And it didn't stop the feeling of dread from growing within him, either, rising sharper and sharper in his chest, as they drew closer to Temperantia. The first time he had faced Mythra, or Pyra, as she was then, Gramps had nearly died. The second time, Vandham _had _died. He wasn't afraid of fighting her...at least, he thought he wasn't. But as he cast his eyes out over the small band that followed him, he could help but feel panic rise in his throat. Who would die for him this time? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. That was just fear talking. Nobody had to die. But it didn't stop the impending sense of doom he had from growing within him.

Temperantia came within sight, once they had winged around the Urayan Titan. Amalthus had told him that it had been attacked by Mythra, back during the Aegis War, but it still shocked him to see the state of it. Mor Ardain had seemed a barren waste to him, but Temperantia was a dead, broken thing, a land of howling waste, gray dust, and blackened rock, pockmarked with craters, no visible trace of the civilization it had once born upon its back. Its northern shore was covered with a thick gray fog, product of the titanic waves the Urayan Titan produced as it struggled crashing into that dead and empty land.

Rex held on tightly as Gramps swooped down low as they approached Temperantia, until he was merely a couple of hundred of feet above the gray deserts, his shadow zipping across the land below.

Rex peered out from behind Gramps' shoulder, shielding his eyes against the howling wind, looking forward across the landscape. He could see...they were approaching..._something. _The land before them was scarred, not from ancient battle, but from recent conflict, great rents torn in the earth, lined by still-flickering flames. And dotting the landscape…

"Architect, are those _bodies?" _Rex cried, as they began passing over them, the small, shriveled, huddled, smoking remains. There were so many of them…

Zeke leapt out of his seat to peer down at the ground below, motioning to Pandy, who bought him a spyglass. He bought it to his one good eye, surveying the grim scene below. "No...no...I don't think so," he muttered finally. "Looks more like scrap…" he snapped his fingers. "It's...those mechs that Bana was building in his factory. Just robots."

"_Just _robots?!" Poppi cried in horror, looking down at the landscape. She hid her face in sorrow as Tora comforted her and glared at Zeke.

"Erm," Zeke said awkwardly, glancing at her. And then he looked forward, peering through the spyglass. His face grew grim, and he handed it over to Rex. "Look ahead, chum. Think I've spotted her."

Rex bought the spyglass up. There, rapidly approaching across the ruined landscape, was a gigantic….twisted…._something. _It looked like some sort of massive, hooved Titan, with metal construct and housing woven into its hide, eerily devoid of a head. Some sort of deck was built into its back. And there, standing at the prow, visible even from this distance, was Mythra. Shining like a star.

"Gramps!" Rex cried, bringing down the spyglass, "Put us down here. I don't want you getting close to that thing-"

"Nonsense, Rex," Gramps roared over the howling wind. "I can make a landing right there-"

"We don't know what that thing is capable of!"

"I don't think it's….doing anything, my boy. It's not moving. Whatever they had it doing here, they seemed to have stopped."

Rex bit his tongue as Gramps soared towards the beast, circling around it as he drew close, and then descending, to alight with a dull grinding thud upon the beast's back. Whatever it was, it was massive enough that it did not seem to feel Gramp's weight in the slightest, not even trembling as the draconic Titan settled upon it.

Gramps stalked forward as far as he could upon the Titan's back, and then the party leapt down from him, weapons drawn and at the ready. As they had been circling, Mythra had not seemed to move, and almost certainly she had spotted them...Rex wondered what it was she was doing here, as he raced forward with his weapon drawn, Malos close behind, and the rest of the party behind them, racing across the Titan's stony back

They reached the deck, a small leap down from a ledge in the Titan's hide, and Rex leapt down, creeping cautiously forward around a large console built into the deck, wires and prongs running from an odd, pulsing green core.

And there, on the other side, was Mythra, still exactly as she had been when they first spotted her. She stood on the edge of the deck, back towards them, golden hair cascading down her back, glowing in the sun. She looked outwards towards the Cloud Sea, her eyes ever upon the Ardainian Titan, and the flames of war that surrounded it.

Besides Rex, Fan raised her staff, the air coiling around it, and suddenly the air around Mythra boiled as well as Fan la Norne cut her off from her powers. But still she did not move, she did not speak. She only ever stared out across the Cloud Sea.

Rex stared at her for a hard moment, sword shaking in his hand. Here she was. Vandham's murderer. The man who had taught him so much, the man who had given him his blade. The man who had sacrificed himself to save them. There was a part of him that wanted to launch himself, howling, at her back, to cut her down, to make her pay for snuffing Vandham's light from the world. Damn it, he should have been here. He should be with them when they entered Elysium.

But eventually, he sighed, lowering his sword. "Mythra…?" he called, cautiously, walking forward. The rest of the party inched forward alongside him. Cut off from her powers she may be, but they did not know how strong she remained.

She took a moment to answer. "Hello, Rex," Mythra said softly, not turning around. "Welcome to my latest failure."

"Failure…?" Rex replied. He glanced back at Malos, who gave him a shrug. Slowly, he continued creeping forward. "What...what do you mean by failure? What were you trying to do here?"

"Trying to stop it," Mythra whispered. She lifted a white gloved hand to slowly point across the Cloud Sea, at the horror and war. "Just trying to stop it. Oh, Father, oh, I just want it to end." She sounded as if she was crying, her voice breaking. "There was….a secret army here, I though...if I exposed it to the Emperor…if I destroyed it..."

Suddenly, Morag gave a sympathetic, hollow bark of a laugh. Of course. Temperantia was where Brionac had been hiding its secret army of artificial blades. But its destruction would not have mattered. They were Ardainian, after all. They would not have had their invasion of Uraya hinging on merely one army. And they had already cut off any hope of Niall's authority stopping the invasion. "It was too late for that," Morag called quietly to Mythra. "Brionac had already seized power in Mor Ardain. I'm afraid the Emperor is nothing but a figurehead now."

"Yes," Mythra agreed simply. "It was too late. It was always too late. Nothing I did ever mattered. Nothing I did was ever going to stop them." She looked back over her shoulder at them, and the pain on her face was enough to make them freeze in their tracks. "I can feel it," she murmured. "I can feel the War. I can feel all the suffering. All the death. I...I can't take it. Why couldn't I stop it? Oh Father, why can't it end? Why can't it ever end?"

Rex paused for a moment. He...felt sympathy for her. She might be a murderer, and a lunatic, but...at least here, she wanted the same things he wanted. "Look…." he said, keeping his eyes on hers, even though the pain he saw there threatened to overwhelm him entirely, "Mythra...why don't you come with us?"

"Rex," Malos snapped from his side.

"No," Rex replied, putting down his blade. "Look. If you want to stop this war...you can't be all bad. I wish I could stop it too. Architect, do I wish it. Look, we know….you aren't getting to the World Tree without us, and we aren't getting there without you. Obviously we don't agree what we're going to do when we get there. But we can take the time to...just talk, alright? Us….just talking...it's gonna be the only way forward. I don't know if we're ever going to agree. But we can talk about it, right? We can find out. Together." He held out his hand to Mythra, and gave her a small, grim smile. "C'mon."

Mythra considered this for a moment, looking at his hand. She opened her mouth to answer him.

"...Haze?"

The party whirled around. There, standing in the shadows of a doorway that led into the Titan's interior, was Jin. For once, his blue eyes hidden behind his silver mask were not impassive. They looked at Haze in wonder.

Fan la Norne glanced between him and Mythra, consternation crossing her features, as if she was indecisive as who to use her powers on. Finally she sighed, and gave Jin a small smile. "Yes. Hello, Jin."

Jin felt something like panic grip his heart as he looked at Haze. She looked...so, so much like her. Like Lora. Something inside him snapped. He wasn't ready for this. Architect, she even smiled like Lora. His heart felt like it was slowly filling with poison. "Do you...remember me?" he asked hoarsely. He ignored the rest of the group, even Mythra, his eyes completely transfixed by Haze, as he walked towards her.

"Well, I have heard _a lot _about you," Haze replied, smiling sweetly at him. "But...I do remember you, a little bit. Flashes and impressions. I know we shared a driver, once. I remember what a kind and gentle man, what a good man, you were." She held a hand to heart and closed her eyes, as if reliving a happy memory. "I remember the love I had for you."

Jin froze in his tracks as if struck. "Don't say that," he said, almost desperate. "Please." He could bear it. It was too much. It was like hearing Lora tell him she loved him, a love stained so black by loss it nearly made his heart stop in his chest. Lora's heart. His vision swam.

"It's true," Haze replied, opening her eyes once more. "And I wish we could spend time together again. I know the good man, that man I loved so much, that man I remember must be somewhere in there. I….know that it has been centuries, and you have been...hurt by his policies. But if you come back with us to the Praetorium..."

"What," Jin said.

"I promise you, no harm will come to you! On my honor." Haze tilted her head to the side, and her smile was like a searing brand on Jin's heart. "Amalthus...he is my driver, and I know there's been misunderstandings, but I promise you, he is a sweet, good man. He dearly wishes to meet you. Come with me, please. I think you would like him."

Jin couldn't stand it. It was driving him mad, to hear that poison dripping from her sweet lips. "Oh, Haze," he said, as his heart shattered. "_It was Amalthus who killed our driver."_

Haze's eyes widened, and then she shook her head firmly. "No. Jin, this is a misunderstanding. Amalthus saved me. His kind words, his care, nursed me back from damage...I promise you, whatever you think the Praetor has done, he has not. He is a good and noble man. I can see his heart, I promise you he is! I would not love him so if he was not."

It was too much. It was too much to hear that. It tore his very soul in two. Amalthus was a devil among devils, a darkness so pitch black it stained the world with its filth, for what he had done to her. Everything he touched turned to corruption, to sickness, and he had touched Haze, beautiful Haze, Haze who had always made Lora smile, Haze who looked so much like Lora...he remembered how sometimes they would dress up like each other to play tricks on him. Hearing her profess her love for Amalthus, fiend beyond all imagination, Jin's nightmares made flesh, was too much to stand. Slowly, he drew his blade, and Haze, eyes widening, backed away, as the rest of the group readied their weapons as well. "Oh, Haze," he whispered, as he advanced towards her. "I have to free you."

"They are coming," Mythra said softly, her eyes on the sky.

Fear written across her features, Haze lifted her staff to cut off Jin from his powers. It didn't matter. He had to free her from this horror, this sick, cruel joke of an existence. He walked steadily towards her.

"HEY!" Suddenly, his blade was met by Rex's, whose eyes flashed furious defiance at him. "Put that blade down! What the hell is wrong with you? She loves you, why are you trying to kill her?!"

"Rex, you don't understand," Jin whispered, and Rex's eyes widened to hear the note of pleading in Jin's normally cold, impassive voice. "Amalthus is filth. He's a demon in human skin. I can't bear to think that he's touched Haze's heart. I have to liberate her from this nightmare."

"What do you mean…?"

"They're here," Mythra said, raising her hand to point to the sky. "Servants of the Clockwork God."

And there, hanging in the sky like nightmare and blasphemy, was a sleek, black Ardainian battleship, revealing itself, cruising around one of Temperantia's peaks, black iron and gleaming gold, its shadow long, malice and predation oozing from its very surface. Its turrets swiveled with grim intent, with the clicking and grinding of gears, to take aim at the deck.

"Get down!" Morag shouted, and then rockets were screaming towards them.

**TOCK**

The rockets slammed into the deck, bursting flame, and Rex was driven forward into Jin by the blast, slamming against the side of the Titan, screaming as his back was pelted with shrapnel. He glanced upward to see Dromarch, Brighid and Malos projecting ether shields upwards into the sky, desperately trying to ward off the barrage. Mythra remained where she had been the whole time, staring out across the Cloud Sea, seemingly ignoring the chaos and destruction around her.

Suddenly, with a mighty roar, Gramps shot into the sky, the beat of his wings extinguishing some of the flames on the deck. He flew straight for the battleship. It desperately tried to swivel its turrets to take aim at him, but Gramps was too agile and quick at this close range, and then he was on it, clinging to it, flashing claws rending great furrows in the battleship's armor, snapping jaws ripping a hole in its hull, flame gouting from his mouth, ripping it apart with a frantic fury.

The battleship lurched in the sky, its engines whining, and then began to spin, plummeting, Gramps still clinging to it, still ripping it apart. Plummeting towards them.

"GRAMPS!" Rex howled, moments before the battleship crashed into the side of the Judicium Titan, erupting in a great ball of flame, and the Titan lurched, and then something inside of it exploded as well, and then they were falling, falling -

**TICK**

Mythra barely moved as the Titan exploded in flame behind her, and the earth rushed up to meet her as it fell forward, knees buckling, and everyone around her was thrown about in the chaos. She stepped out softly, as if walking on air, her feet gently touching the cracked and ruined earth, her hair whipping about her as explosions ripped through the air, not noticing the bodies thrown about her.

She had eyes for only one thing. For the Ardainian Titan, and the fleets who surrounded her. It no longer looked like a Titan to her eyes, though. It was the Clockwork Demon, a god of gear and flame, who loomed in the sky before her.

As she watched, it lifted its head from its predations upon Uraya to pin her with a fiery gaze that burned her very soul, two eyes like enormous forges, dripping molten metal, each one a holocaust.

_MYTHRA, _it crooned, its features of twisted metal twisting in a screeching, wicked smile, its voice the din and fury of war.

**TOCK**

_DID YOU THINK THAT YOUR FATHER, YOUR SIBLINGS, WERE THE TRUE GODS OF THIS WORLD? _The Clockwork Demon's mocking laughter roared to her from across the Cloud Sea as she looked upon it with wonder. _NO. NO, FOOLISH USURPER. I AM THE TRUE GOD OF MAN. BUT YOU KNOW THAT, DON'T YOU. __YOU HAVE SEEN ME BEFORE. MANY, MANY TIMES. I AM THERE IN EVERY AGE. HUMANITY'S CONSTANT COMPANION AND ONE TRUE FRIEND._

Mythra knew this was true. She had heard this voice pouring from the pages of every book of history. She had heard this voice during the War of the Ancients. The Clockwork Demon was a new form, but the voice, the god, was the same. It was always the same.

_THIS WORLD IS MINE. AND ALWAYS WAS. AND ALWAYS WILL BE. YOU ARE NOTHING. _Its eyes flared with cruel delight, white-hot flame that rose like pillars into the sky. _YOU HOPE TO FIGHT ME. BUT I AM LIKE YOU. I CANNOT TRULY END. MY SERVANTS WILL COVER THIS WORLD IN FLAME AND BLACK IRON, IN BLOOD AND BONE, IN DUST AND RUIN. YOU THINK YOU MOURN SUFFERING NOW? OH MYTHRA, I WILL TEACH YOU AND THIS WORLD BOTH TRUE SUFFERING. _

"No," Mythra whispered, tears of light streaming down her face. "No. Stop."

_NO, _the Clockwork Demon roared, the flames of war rising ever higher about it, as around it the bombs fell like rain upon Uraya, and Mythra could feel it, she could feel every single death, all the suffering pouring into her, as those bombs detonated, and the Clockwork Demon roared hideous, maddening laughter that seemed like it would tear the sky apart. _NO, MYTHRA. I WON'T EVER STOP. BEG AND PLEAD ALL YOU MIGHT. I WILL TEACH YOU. WHEN YOUR HEART IS GROUND TO DUST, WHEN YOU SURRENDER BEFORE ME, WHEN YOU LEARN THIS WORLD IS MINE AND YOU CAN NEVER FREE IT FROM MY GRASP….THEN I WILL HAVE MERCY. THEN I WILL LET YOU DIE._

Mythra closed her eyes, trembling, tears streaming from her face, as the mad howls of the Clockwork Demon's laughter burned her soul. The endless pain, the endless wounds he tore upon Uraya ripped through her, souls snuffed out with every bomb, children torn from parents, blades screaming for their drivers as they lay bleeding to death, and she knew the truth. This was just the beginning. It would cover the world. And it would never, ever end.

**TICK**

Morag spat dust from her mouth as she propped herself up with shaking arms. Her whole body ached from the blast. She felt as if she had been slowly flattened beneath a boulder. But miraculously, everything still worked.

She looked around frantically. The Titan behind her was a great melting hulk of flame, the heat of it pouring forward to draw sweat from her brow. There was Brighid, beside her, slowly stirring. And Nia, lying face-down in the dirt, slowly twitching awake as well, though Dromarch was nowhere to be seen. Rex, already on his feet, shaking the dust from his head, looking dazed. Pandoria, desperately trying to shake her Prince back into consciousness. Tora and Poppi, who seemed to have fared the blast better than anyone, Poppi curled protectively around her masterpon as the shrapnel bounced harmlessly off her metal frame. And…

Morag scrambled back, struggling to her feet despite the pain, as she realized that Mythra stood mere feet from her. But the Aegis made no move to attack or strike. She merely stood looking up at the sky, at the roaring battle surrounding Mor Ardain.

**TICK**

Finally, Mythra lowered her gaze, looking at Morag. "It won't stop," she whispered, her eyes blazing light, the tears of liquid light on her cheeks sizzling. "It won't ever stop."

Not unless she stopped it. Father may have cut her off from the World Tree. But there were other tools she had, lying dormant high in the starry sky above Alrest.

**TOCK**

"What a sick, cruel world Father made," Mythra said. "Where the only way out of suffering is more suffering."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Morag said cautiously, her hands going to her blades.

**TICK**

Mythra's tears fell faster, dripping into the dust beneath her, as she raised her hand. When she spoke, her breath caught in her throat. "I want you to know," she whispered to Morag, "That this isn't judgment. I know there are good people in Mor Ardain. I know I'm a monster. I know I'm the worst of them all." She choked back a sob, as she began to glow with some inner light. "I want you to know that I am doing this to prevent more suffering, but I know all the pain I'm causing. _I know exactly what I'm doing."_

**TOCK**

Rex, finally recovering from the blast, looked up. He saw Mythra's outstretched hand, Morag looking at her in confusion and alarm. He looked up at the sky above Mor Ardain. He realized, too late, what was happening.

"NO," he screamed, dashing forward. "MYTHRA, DON'T! _IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS!"_

Morag spun around to face where Mythra held out her outstretched hand. And then she threw her arm up to shield her eyes as the world exploded in light.

**TICK**

Amalthus stood on a balcony of the Sanctum, flowing white stone extending out from the wall of the building as if blown there by the wind, one hand on a whorled carved railing, and in his other, a long, golden staff, topped by a golden carving of a dragon unfurling its wings, a symbol of his authority. His gaze fell upon the Cloud Sea below.

There, below him, lay Mor Ardain, its Titan grappling mightily with Uraya, wreathed all around by smoke and flame and her mighty Armadas, as seas of flame washed over the surface of Uraya.

His weighing gaze followed the progress of the battle closely. The moment was almost here. The right balance must be struck. But he had full confidence he could choose the right timing. Through centuries of conflict and battle, Amalthus had made of himself a master. There were none on Alrest who might call themselves his equal, and he had been planning for this for a very long time. None could read a battlefield like he, see the tides of victory pushing back and forth, see the flow of forces, and if he could just...balance...exactly...

"Praetor..." came a voice from behind him, suddenly. One of his advisors.

"Are the control towers ready?" he asked quietly, still focusing intently on the scene of war beneath him.

"Praetor….Praetor! The sky!"

Amalthus glanced behind him at his advisor's face, staring raptly at the sky with an expression of wonder and horror. He looked up sharply.

There in the sky, above the battlefield, pulsing above Mor Ardain, a light was slowly building beneath a swirling vortex of clouds, gathering strength, until it was so bright it seemed almost like a second sun. Amalthus' eyes widened. He had seen this before. "Mythra..." he whispered. Then he realized what this must mean. "No. NO!"

His slammed his staff into the balcony with such fury and strength that stone shattered beneath it and his advisors fled in terror at his dark rage, but for all his power, there was nothing to be done.

The sky erupted, and a light so radiant and terrible it burned away the clouds and blinded the world flooded forth, lancing towards Mor Ardain.

**TOC-**

Zuo sighed, gripping his spear to him, as he leaned against a wall, catching his breath. Sordai stood beside him, peering out over the wreckage at the battlefield. The constant whine of bullets and roar of bombs made it hard to think.

His men had fought like demons after the initial charge, fought like it was the end of the world, their initial charge driving deep into the enemy ranks. But the tide of Ardainians was endless, and the charge could not go on forever. They had been paused, and then, slowly, inch by inch, driven back, back over blood-soaked sands, over the course of the battle, back across the Ardainian Titan's hand. Not an inch of retreat was given that they did not make the Ardainians pay for dearly in lives, but many of their own had fallen. Too many.

Eventually, they had been pushed back down the Titan's fingers, as well. Some of the most deadly fighting had taken place during their retreat down those treacherous paths, on their way back to Uraya. Men fell from the narrow paths, screaming to their deaths far below.

And now, here they were, back on Urayan soil. Though it barely seemed recognizable as Uraya anymore. The land was burnt, covered in the wreckage of a hundred crashed airships, pitted with craters from the fighting. It was within one of those wrecks of twisted metal and burnt wood that Zuo hid now, temporary shelter against the constant assault. From the other side of the wall came the sounds of combat, what remained of his men giving their all, the screams of dying men.

He sighed once more, as he looked up into the sky behind them. The flagship of the Silver Eagle was there, hovering over the battlefield, a promise of their death. It was not unleashing the full power of its armaments, not yet, although they were now pushed back far away enough from the Ardainian Titan that certainly it would not have to worry about its bombs. It held back, likely, because the Ardainian forces and the Urayans were engaged in combat too closely for the airship to easily target Urayans without having to worry about killing their own men. But still, on occasion a stream of rockets hissed from its turrets, to race down to the battlefield somewhere far below, destroying a pocket of his men here and there who had become isolated from the battle.

This, now, was certainly the bitter end. They had fought nobly, fought far beyond all Zuo had thought possible. And they had been given their glorious deaths. There were not so many of them left, now. Certainly fewer than half of what he had set out with, and between the Ardainians pressing forward and the Silver Eagle at their back, they had begun dying in earnest.

He heard a small sob to his right, and glanced over. It was the blade, the maiden in the white plat-armored dress studded with pink crystal. Agate, her name was. Tears streaked her ash-covered face, cutting paths in the black stain, as she struggled to maintain her composure, failed, and hung her head, resting it against the shaft of the axe held in her hands, choking back more tears. "Where's your driver?" Zuo asked her, softly.

Agate glanced down at him, eyes shining with tears. "They….they shot him. His legs….he told me to keep fighting on. But...he's dying." She trembled as she spoke this, gripping her axe tight. "I...I should be by his side, but he told me to keep fighting on..."

Zuo wanted to comfort her, but before he could speak, Sordai at his side shouted in alarm. "ZUO!" he cried, looking out over the battlefield, peering over a pile of molten metal and scrap. "You should look at this!"

Zuo scrambled to his feet, joining Sordai. The battlefield was a horror. The smoke of burning airships and naval ships, the smoke of a thousand burning fires, had joined with the smoke pouring from Mor Ardain's factories to become thick enough to blot out the sun, casting the field in perpetual twilight. His men fought from hastily-dug positions, firing rifles out across the field, diving into their holes when the Ardainians answered with machine gun fire. Those who had blades fought out in the open, in melee, trying to break the Ardainian advance, relying on ether shields to protect them.

But there, thundering across the field, breaking through his lines, was an advance of Ardainian tanks, a dozen or so. They were painted black as night, their cannons roaring as they raced forward, and beneath their fire blade and driver disappeared in flame and earth. And at their head was a tank larger than the others, its sides emblazoned with a snarling silver wolf, its treads tearing up the earth, cutting a swift path straight towards Zuo's position.

Blades and drivers rushed forth to halt the advance, along with what few war Ardun they had left, but the tanks were too expertly piloted. Cannons swiveled back and forth rapidly, belching flame, and all who might approach them were annihilated. It did not even slow them down. Zuo's eyes grew wide as that snarling wolf's head grew larger and larger in his vision. They weren't slowing down. He realized too late that they meant to drive directly _through_ the smouldering remains of the crashed airship in which they took shelter.

The tanks crashed into the airship walls, and they buckled before the onslaught, the remains of the airship frame shuddering, and suddenly the world collapsed around Zuo, an avalanche of splintering wood and squealing metal, and he fell, tumbling, the world spinning around him, Sordai shouting at his side and summoning an ether shield to protect him, sharp metal and wood splinters bouncing off it, and he fell, and fell, and fell-

And landed on his back, the breath driven out of him, staring upward at the darkened sky. He could hear tanks roaring past him, to his right and left, and he was showered with the earth torn up by their treads. He scrambled to his feet, swiftly, and then his hands fell limply to his sides. There, bearing down upon him, roaring thunder, was the tank with the silver wolf painted upon it. There was no time to move. And in that snarling face, Zuo saw his own death.

But just as it seemed the tank was to run him over, crushing him beneath its treads, the ground beneath it erupted in humongous shards of sharp pink crystal, piercing through the metal, ripping apart first its treads, and then shooting through the body of the tank itself, grinding it to a halt, until it lay ruined, pierced through by pillars of pink crystal, its turret swiveling loosely, broken and dead.

Zuo looked to his side, where Agate stood, her axe raised above her head in defiance, her face broken by a sad smile which shone out even through the ash that stained it and the darkness around them. She lowered her axe, raising her eyes from Zuo to gaze at the sky. "I hope," she said slowly, "he's proud of me."

And with a flash, she was nothing but ether sparks drifting away on the hot wind. Her core crystal fell to the earth with a thud.

But Zuo did not have time to react to this. The tank may be dead, but the man within was not. A hatch tore itself open, and an Ardainian clawed his way out, roaring with rage, upon his head a helm carved in the shape of a snarling wolf, his eyes lit with the fires of fury, like twin portals into hell. With a vicious snarl, he ripped a shard of pink crystal from his shoulder, sending his blood arcing through the air. And then he glanced downward, his eyes lighting upon Zuo, and Zuo could _feel _ the crazed bloodlust coursing through the man. "YOU," he roared, leaping from the tank, landing on his feet on the earth before Zuo. And suddenly Zuo did not know what was worse, facing down that tank, or seeing that man bearing down upon him, the violence born up within him, as the sky roared with flame. "YOU, little man! I've seen you upon the field. It was you who put the courage into these men!"

With a roar, the Ardainian lashed out at him with one clawed gauntlet, and Zuo put his spear up to defend himself. Fearsome this man may be, he saw no blade in sight. A driver should be easily able to defeat a normal man. But the Ardainian did not pause for a moment. He seized the shaft of Zuo's spear, and with incredible strength, ripped it from his hands, hurtling it with contempt across the battlefield, reaching with his other clawed gauntlet for Zuo's throat, murder radiating from his eyes.

Sordai shouted, and an ether shield blocked the man's clutching grasp before it could close around Zuo's throat, and his blade ran forward to grapple with the man. Zuo scrambled backwards as Sordai struggled with the Ardainian, falling to the ground, trying to reach his spear.

But the Ardainian was not delayed for long. Sordai blocked his blows with an ether shield, and the man snarled contempt, reaching behind his back, unholstering twin shotguns. A blast from one tore through Sordai's shields with green flame from ether-penetrating shot, and the other was not a shotgun after all – Sordai found himself tangled in an ether net, cut off from the bond of his driver, falling to the ground, wrapped within the thick weighted cables.

Zuo looked behind him as he felt the ether connection to his blade disappear, and his heart was seized by fear. The Ardainian had tossed aside the shotguns, and now loosened a wicked bearded axe from its sheath at his belt, and was bearing down upon Zuo. "What is your name," the Ardainian growled, as he advanced. "It would be a shame to kill you without knowing your name."

Zuo wasn't going to be able to get to his spear in time. He struggled to his feet, unsheathing a machete he kept strapped to his back, holding it forward between him and the advancing Ardainian. Somewhere nearby, an explosion roared, showering them both with dirt. "Zuo," he yelled, his voice unsteady. "My name is Zuo. And I swear, you may have victory here, but you'll be the dead one by the end of the day."

To his surprise, the Ardainian paused, and then put his hands to his hips, roaring mad laughter at the ruined sky, laughing in the midst of all the madness around him, laughing as men screamed and died around him, laughing as the world ended. "Zuo!" he said finally, shaking his head. "Well Zuo. You face Harald Nelson. Supreme Commander Harald Nelson, for all the shits I give about that title. I hand it to you, Zuo. You gave us one hell of a fight. I should have known Urayans would be the ones to spit defiance at us. I always envied you, you know. The mercenary life is the way to live, as far as I'm concerned. Fighting and dying, flame and bomb!" He raised his axe, his eyes howling madness, but his smile was...a friendly smile. It was shocking to see that warmth beneath those mad eyes. "Don't worry, Zuo. I'll make sure your country remembers your name. I'll make sure they honor your valor forever."

And with an inhuman roar, he charged forward, that snarling wolf's head burning bright in the flames that surrounded them, axe gleaming in the dim light of war, and he hardly seemed like a man at all. He moved so quickly, with such fury, that it was all Zuo could do to retreat against his onslaught. Lashing claw and biting axe whipped through the air, missing Zuo by a hair's breadth, and Zuo could only marvel at his might. He moved faster and struck with more strength than many drivers could with the aid of a blade.

Suddenly, the air was driven out of him as Nelson balled his fist and punched him in the gut. That axe flashed through the air, and Zuo lashed out with his machete, haphazardly, anything to ward off the fatal blow. Nelson roared with pain, clutching his face, sounding more beast than man, but the axe bit deeply into Zuo's arm all the same, cleaving him to the bone, and the machete dropped from his hand as pain lanced through his arm. He screamed, falling backwards, even as Nelson stumbled back as well, clutching at his wound, falling to the cracked and ruined earth.

He writhed in pain, looking up as Nelson began to chuckle. Beneath his wolf's head helm, the Supreme Commander's face was painted half-red from a long, ruinous gash that cleaved across his right eye, the bridge of his nose, and his lip. Nelson spit blood, and his ruined features contorted into a smile. "Got me good, there," he panted, raising his axe. "But it's the end for you, now. War's a funny thing, isn't it, Zuo? At the end, all the good men are in graves, and all that's left are the cowards who beg for peace. That's how it was in Gormott, and that's how it's going to be here." He advanced, his footsteps thunderous even against the explosions that surrounded him, lifting his axe above his head, as Zuo tried to fight through his pain. "Years from now, what Urayans that are left will feast fat and happy at our tables, and pretend it was they who gave us such a good fight. But I'll know better. It was men like you, roaring bastards like you, who were my equals." He stood above Zuo now, axe raised high to kill, his eyes blazing murder, his ruined face twisted with a friendly smile, flames and bomb erupting around him, the Ardainian Titan, the howling Clockwork Demon, looming over him, and Zuo realized this would be the last thing he ever saw. "I'll remember you forever, my good man. Time to die."

And then the sky erupted with light.

Boiling, hellish, awful light, light like a thousand suns, light that boiled away the clouds and smoke, light to end the world, an endless, beating, consuming flood of white light, light that stabbed out of the sky to pour into the chest of the Ardainian Titan, with a roar that broke the world, a roar that seemed like it must shake the sky apart.

Zuo threw up his arms and closed his eyes against that onslaught of light, shielding them lest they be blinded, and when the roaring had stopped, when the light had stopped beating upon him in its grand and impossible radiance, when he could open his eyes again, he looked up in wonder, for the Clockwork Demon before him, that great monolithic shadow in the sky, now had a great burning hole in its chest, the flames licking upwards to quickly consume it, smoke billowing and pouring from it, shrouding it in darkness.

And Nelson, still standing over him, had turned to face the end of all he knew, his eyes wide with shock, his axe no longer held above his head, poised to kill, instead dangling from an arm that now hung loosely at his side. "...What…?" he whispered hoarsely, fixated by the dying Titan.

"ZUO!"

Zuo glanced to his side. Sordai had finally managed to disentangle himself from the ether net. In a flash of sparks, suddenly his spear was in Zuo's hands. Ignoring the blazing pain from his wounded arm, with a howl, Zuo thrust forward with the spear into Nelson's back with all his might, driving the Supreme Commander through.

Nelson collapsed to his knees, and then fell to his back as Zuo wrenched the spear from his chest, his eyes ever fixed upon his Titan. Zuo glanced at him for a moment, and then braced himself as the wind howled around him.

The Ardainian Titan was bellowing, a terrible, dying sound, a howl of rage, like a billion gears breaking and shattering, reeling from the massive wound in its chest, tearing its arm from Uraya. The Ardainians still advancing forth upon it were flung, or fell, screaming, tanks and men falling from the arm like rain, to land upon Uraya, exploding among the Ardainians already on Urayan soil, breaking their lines, as even more of them were sucked in by the howling wind created by the Titan wrenching its hand quickly from the earth, reaping a carnage of the Ardainian armies. In the skies above the battlefield, The Silver Eagle fought against the howling winds, struggling mightily to not be dashed against the earth, and with a roar of its engines, rocketed forth into the sky, fleeing Uraya, fleeing the vortex that threatened to suck it in.

Zuo, and all the Urayan forces, stared for a moment of silence, a pause, as the Clockwork Demon reeled, engulfed in flame, stumbling away, across the Cloud Sea, pouring thick black smoke into the sky, flailing wildly, the Ardainian navy crushed against its sides, her airships caught in the flailing movements of her arms. The Clockwork Demon, in its dying thrashes, dashed Ardainian airships from the sky in balls of flame, trampled upon her navies.

"TO ME!" Zuo roared, lifting his spear into the sky with his one good arm, as it filled with the flames of the Empire's destruction. "TO ME! DRIVE THE LAST OF THEM FROM URAYA!"

And the Urayan forces, with a great triumphant roar, charged across the shattered and broken earth, towards the fragmented ruins of the stunned Ardainian lines, those who yet lived, those still staring stunned at the flaming ruin of their Titan. And the Ardainians knew then that their death was upon them, their death, and the death of everything they knew.

And Supreme Commander Harald Nelson, Wolf of the Empire, lay bleeding his life into Urayan soil, his breath growing more desperate, more shallow, as the burning, mad flame within him dimmed, his eyes fixed ever upon his dying Titan. Urayans thundered by him in their charge, ignoring him, and he knew, for the first time, the only time, the bitter taste of defeat.

And as his sight grew dim, and the roaring flames consumed the Ardainian Titan, transforming its head into a grinning, burning skull, the smoke billowed around, creating a shroud, and, his life fading, his thoughts growing dim, Nelson saw it as the specter of death, the reaper come for him at last.

"Come on, then," he growled, "I'm not afraid of you. I was never afraid of you."

As if in answer, some tune filled his head. He could not name it, but it seemed so familiar. It reminded him of his father, who would play the fiddle when he returned from his shifts at the factory, when Nelson was young. Nelson would always dance along to the tune, his boots working up a patter of beats, faster and more skillful, even when he was very small, than many of the most experienced dancers, and his father would laugh, full of pride for his clever, brave boy.

And so Nelson's last thoughts before his eyes dimmed forever were of his father, and how he would like to dance again someday.

**TI-**

Niall moved through the chaos of the command room as if in a dream.

All around him, Brionac's high command screamed, panicking, as flames burst from the walls, sending their papers and plans flying. Electronic consoles shot sparks, glass buckled and shattered from waves of heat, but none of it reached him. All the sound, all the fury around him traveled to him as if through a thick wave of fog, all of it a muted, bad dream. He walked, almost serenely, towards the exit.

Someone grabbed his arm. He looked up towards them with tired, broken eyes. It was Padraigh, his face pale. Poor Padraigh, who had realized only too late the price of his obedience. Niall did not fault him. He felt only a long, tired pity.

"Your majesty," Padraigh was yelling, "We have to get you out of here. Get you to an airship. We-"

Suddenly, there was a great, shaking groan, and Padraigh stumbled back. With a loud snap, a long, deep crack ran across the floor of the command room. Padraigh looked down at this with alarm. And then his face grew calm. He looked at Niall with regret, as with a groan, half of the command room collapsed, rubble and broken stone, and he fell, the Brionac high command fell, out from the palace, out into the sea of flame that was Mor Ardain. That regret was what haunted Padraigh's last thoughts, as he plummeted. He could have done more. He should have done more. And if he had, it may not have ended like this.

Niall stared, calmly, at the collapsed half of the command room, from the half that still remained standing, out into the gaping maw of ruin that the collapsed hole looked out onto. It still all felt like a dream. He pushed the door open, and exited out into the palace halls.

He was alone now, as he moved through the shuddering, quaking palace, the disintegrating remnants of the home he had grown up in. Many of the hallways were full of roaring flame and choking smoke. He staggered, coughing, as that smoke filled his lungs, but still it could not break his eerie sense of calm. He glanced at the walls, at all the paintings of Mor Ardain's past Emperors, many now going up in flame, their canvases black and curling, all the long history of the Empire disappearing in smoke. Their judging, weighing eyes were among the last portions of the paintings to burn.

As he made his way through the halls, with a great groan, one of the palace walls collapsed, breaking forward to shatter against the imperial plaza below, revealing a view of Alba Cavanich. Its great factories were on fire, its houses in flame – great cracks in the earth tore themselves open, sheets of lava erupting from them, and Niall could see great masses of people fleeing, a great sea of black dots in the streets desperately seeking some shelter, some safety to flee too. But of course, there was none. There was no running from this.

And finally, Niall's calm broke. He sobbed, desperately, reaching out for them. "I'm sorry," he cried, at this, the final end of his people. But there was no apology that would ever be great enough for this. What could he possibly say now, at the end of all things? Tears streaming down his face, he wrenched his gaze from the scene below. He had wanted to see it, and here it was. This was the price of his failures.

Stumbling, he slowly made his way back to his throne room. Miraculously, it was still mostly intact. Only the glass dome in the ceiling had shattered. His boots crunched on broken glass as he crossed the room to his throne, looking up into the sky. There was the head of the Ardainian Titan, flames just beginning to lick their way up its neck. Mor Ardain's dying, long-abused home. It didn't deserve to suffer for their sins. But it did anyway.

Trembling, Niall slowly took his seat on his throne. He should try to be brave. He should try to meet death with dignity. No one was watching, but he should try to meet Mor Ardain's end with stoicism. The last moments of the Empire deserved at least that.

But in the end, he was just a child.

Niall Ladair, last Emperor of the Ardainians, trembled, weeping into his hands, as his Empire burned around him. "I'm sorry," he sobbed to the burning horror around him, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry, Dad. I tried. I tried to stop them. I tried to be strong enough. Oh Architect, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Morag."

That last, at least, bought him a little peace. Morag. At least she was far away from all this. At least he had gotten to see her one last time.

Suddenly, he looked up. There was a sweet, sad tune playing from somewhere. Who could be playing now…? And it seemed so familiar…

And then the world around him erupted in flame.

…**.**

Morag only dimly realized that the broken, mad voice howling her brother's name was her own, only faintly recognized that the hands she saw clawing after the flaming, falling Ardainian Titan were her own. It felt too unreal. Surely this could not be happening. Surely she could not be watching her entire country, and her brother, her sweet brother, her brother of the wide and hopeful eyes, her brother of the innocent laugh, die before her. It couldn't be happening. Why would she be howling broken screams at something that wasn't really happening?

She watched the Ardainian Titan, consumed in flames, reeling away from Uraya, great veins of lava opening up on its back. Brighid was saying something to her, but she couldn't tell what it was. Why did Brighid seem so mad with grief? This was obviously just a nightmare. Some sort of...strange shared nightmare. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be real. Oh Architect, please let it not be real. Oh, Architect, Niall.

…**.**

Striding out of the blackened flame and smoke of the wreckage of the Titan came Malos, Fan at his side. He had gone back to look for her, when the explosion happened – he didn't want her getting cornered by Jin, not when he so clearly wanted her dead. And he knew. He knew what he was going to see when he cleared the smoke. He had felt it in the ether. He had felt his sister's power lashing out.

"Oh Architect," Fan gasped at his side, putting a hand to her mouth to cover her shock, as the dark flames of Mor Ardain's destruction filled the sky before them. Finally, she could look no more. She buried her face in Malos' arm, not wanting to see the horror.

But Malos stared it down, grimly. He would not deny it. Here it was. Here was the price of his hesitation. Here was the price of his mercy. Here was the price of his foolishness, for ever entertaining, for a moment, the idea that his sister might have changed. He glanced around grimly, and then removed her from his arm. "Tend to the others. Zeke looks like he needs healing. And watch out for Jin." His voice betrayed no emotion, no malice. Just a simple certainty. All that he was was falling into the void at the heart of him. There could be no room for compassion, now. There could be no room for anything that might make him hesitate.

…**.**

Rex fell to his knees in the dust, looking up with broken eyes at the destruction and madness that filled the sky before him. He had failed. He had failed again. He looked numbly at his own hands, gloves covered with gray dust. The magnitude of it all seemed impossible. He didn't even have the capacity to curse himself for failure, not yet. The sheer scale of the destruction before him seemed impossible to fathom. He simply couldn't process it. How many lives lost? How many lives lost because of him?

A hand fell upon his shoulder, and he looked up. It was Malos, staring down on him, face hidden in shadow, head haloed by the fires consuming the sky. "Rex," the Dark Aegis said. "Are you ready? Are you ready to do what must be done to make sure this doesn't happen again?"

"Yes," Rex croaked. "Please. Anything. Just make it stop."

Malos looked down on him with something like pity and regret. "Good soldier," he said quietly.

…**.**

Nia scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide as she stared at the sky. The Ardainian Titan was a ball of flame on legs, almost seeming as if it was twirling, dancing madly, in its death throes. It would almost seem absurd if it wasn't so sick.

And her eyes widened further as Malos approached her, his face a dark storm, dragging a dazed Rex along with him. Wordlessly, he shoved Rex into her arms, tearing the pack from his back as he did so. "What are you doing?" she asked, in shock, as Malos began rummaging through Rex's pack.

"You're going to need to heal him." From Rex's pack, he drew out the three core crystals, Roc, Aegaeon, and the nameless blade they had found in Uraya. As he touched each one, they lit with a dark flame, and then began to orbit his head, like a crown. Nia could sense ether, energy, draining from them, siphoning into Malos.

"What...what do you mean? What are you _doing?" _she cried again. Dread filled her as Malos looked at her. She could see the pity in his eyes. "No. Malos, no. Please. _Please._"

"I am doing," he said quietly, "What needs to be done."

And suddenly, there was not just one of his twisted, dark ether connections to Rex. There were two. One leading from Malos to Rex, and one leading from Rex back to Malos.

"If you want to see him live," Malos said, as his head erupted into a pillar of black flame, only to be concealed beneath a sleek, winged black helmet, as a tattered cape unfurled from his shoulders like wretched bat wings, as he drew a sword that dripped with black flame, "Heal him."

And suddenly, energy was pouring from him, into Rex, dark flame pouring down that ether connection from him into Rex. And in Rex, it was magnified, amplified, and then sucked back up the other ether connection Malos had created, back into the Dark Aegis.

And Nia fell to her knees, cradling Rex in her arms, as he began to scream in pain.

…**.**

Mythra stood, breath hitching in sobs, arms hanging limply by her sides, looking up into the sky. Beside her, the Ardainian and her blade howled with grief and loss. She shuddered as she felt the pain of thousands of deaths flooding into her. It was only right. She had done what this world had demanded of her, and she deserved to pay the price. The emotions, the suffering, the memories of loss and horror flooded her until she thought she might go mad, and then went beyond. So many. So much. The price had been so steep.

Suddenly, she felt a clawed gauntlet close around her throat, and she was lifted bodily into the air. She looked down to see the helmeted mask of Malos, his core crystal burning darkly in his chest. She felt him drawing energy, information from her, repairing himself. "_You never changed," _he snarled. "_Not at all. Time to do what I should have done when I first awoke."_

Mythra's eyes followed the ether connections leading from him, back to Rex, seeing how Malos was amplifying his power by processing it through his driver. "Oh, Malos," she murmured. "What have you done? Can't you tell he loves you?"

"_SHUT UP," _Malos roared, his fury manifesting in black flame that burst from her, running through her veins, dripping from her eyes. "_I place no stock in the judgment of a genocide." _With every word, his hand around her neck squeezed tighter, until Mythra's vision began to blur.

Suddenly, Malos snarled as a blade stuck out from his chest. He squeezed Mythra's throat tighter for a moment, and then dashed her away like a ragdoll, where she landed with a blast of dark flame in the dust.

Malos melted away into dark flame, dispersing from around the blade in his chest, and reformed instantly next to the man who had wielded it. Jin, who looked at him with contempt, sneering at the connection he had formed between himself and Rex. It was so wrong. It was everything a blade and driver should not be. "I can't believe I once called you brother," Jin whispered, preparing to flicker away and strike once more.

But before he could, Malos lashed out, grabbing Jin by the wrist, and Jin howled as dark flame roared through him, the mask shattering from his face, bursting into shards. Last time they had fought, there seemed to have been some mercy in Malos. There was none here now. "_The price for alliance with Mythra," _Malos hissed, drawing Jin closer to him, and Jin could hear death in his words, "_is annihilation."_

And suddenly, he howled with frustration as a bomb slammed into the side of his head, showering him with bright green and red sparks. He glared balefully, almost bemused, at the young blade who was rushing across the battlefield at him, a blade of white hair with a black streak down the center, a blade strapped about with a bandolier of sparking bombs. "Let him go!" she cried, bringing her foot around to kick Malos, a rocket in her boot igniting to give it extra strength.

Malos, with lackadaisical contempt, tossed Jin aside and ran her through with his sword.

"_The price," _he hissed, as the blade coughed and gasped, as the dark flames of his blade began eating her from within, "_is annihilation."_

And then, slowly, he looked down. Tiny fists were battering against his plate armor. Tiny fists he could barely feel. And there stood a young Gormotti boy, sobbing desperately, green eyes streaming with tears, staining the dark skin of his cheeks, ears flat against his head, slamming his fists ineffectively into Malos. "No," he was sobbing. "Not her. Not her too. Don't take her from me too."

In shock, Malos slid his sword from the blade's chest, and the boy ran to her side, cradling her in his arms. "Please Crossette, I'm sorry," he cried, weeping as he clung to her. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I bought you out here! Please!"

Malos stumbled backwards in shock and horror, shaking so badly he nearly dropped his sword. It wasn't just that he had run this poor child's blade through. It was that, for a moment, part of him had nearly lashed out at the child as well. For the price of alliance with Mythra was annihilation.

"Jin," Mythra's voice rang out in the pause. "Please take Rhys and Crossette back to the Monoceros. She has dire need of the rejuvenation chamber."

"Mythra..." Jin began.

"No," Mythra replied. She stood now, blazing sword of light by her side, tears of light streaming down her face, the ash of Mor Ardain's destruction raining down around her, hair streaming in the wind that howled across Temperantia's ruined plains. "It is up to me to face my brother."

Jin paused, then nodded. He got up, feet crunching across the cracked desert plains, as he walked to Rhys and Crossette. He gave Malos a cool gaze, but the Dark Aegis, faceless beneath that helmet, made no move to stop him. He lifted Crossette in his arms, where she sobbed with pain into his chest, clutching her arm to her stomach, where Malos' dark flame spread on her skin. Rhys followed tearfully by his side as he walked away. As he crossed the battlefield, he gave Haze one last haunted glance.

And then Nia. Nia looked at him, eyes wide, as she clutched Rex to her chest, healing him as Malos' power passed through him. Almost as if she could not believe Malos would betray them so completely. Jin ached for her. He knew this day would come for her eventually. He wished he could help her. He didn't want to see what he knew would eventually happen. But there was nothing to be done.

He shifted Crossette's weight in his arms, hoisting her over one shoulder, and then bent down to scoop up Rhys. And with a flash, he took off, dashing across the landscape, dashing back to the Monoceros.

Mythra and Malos faced one another alone, now. They circled one another, Son and Daughter of the Architect, their power radiating from them.

"Your driver is right," Mythra called softly, bringing her sword to bear. "I wish we could talk."

"_There are no words you have left that could save you from death after what you have done here today," _Malos answered.

And then they rushed at each other, ash falling around them, and their swords met beneath a ruined sky, reality groaning under the strain where they clashed.

…**.**

Nia sobbed as she poured all the healing she could into Rex, as Malos' power coursed through him, her tears falling hot and fast on his face as he writhed in pain. She didn't know how he could possibly stand it. The wounds that Malos was opening in him were so great, so severe, that she didn't know how he lived. It was torture of the worst possible kind she could imagine.

"Please," she gasped, looking up around her. She spotted Morag and Brighid, Morag finally getting to her feet. The Ardainian soldier had watch her Titan die, watched it stumble across the Cloud Sea in flames, stumbling towards the World Tree, reaching up, as if begging for mercy, before finally collapsing beneath the mist, where the flames of it still burned dimly beneath the clouds. "Morag, Brighid, please," she gasped. "He's killing him. Please..."

But Morag let the words wash over her. She had eyes for only one thing right now. Mythra. Summoning her blades to her hands, she dashed towards the Aegis in a streak of blue flame, joining Malos in battle against her, howling rage and vengeance.

Brighid was torn. She looked back and forth between her driver, and Nia. Then she looked at Malos, and her eyes widened. That was...that was Aegaeon, circling his head, being drained of energy. And Roc. With a shout of shock and horror, she sent blue flames crashing down upon Malos.

"_What are you doing, Brighid," _Malos snarled, as the flames roared against his ether shield. He clutched at the air, and Mythra dodged backwards as a globe of dark flame expanded where she had been standing only moments before, consuming all that it touched.

Brighid stepped forward. Morag, at least, was simply ignoring her, focused entirely on her blades lashing out at at Mythra. But Brighid could do it. She could watch after her Driver, and fight Malos at the same time. "Stop it," she snapped severely, pointing to Rex. "I will not let you leech your power from Aegaeon and Roc. And I will not let you harm Rex."

"_I am at the end of my mercy, little blade," _Malos intoned, his cloak fluttering about him. "_If I have to cut you down to get to Mythra, I will."_ And Brighid screamed with pain as black flame erupted from her skin.

"PLEASE," Nia screamed, as Rex moaned in her arms. "Please, stop him!"

Zeke, rising from being healed by Fan, saw her horror, glanced between her and Malos, and nodded. And he immediately joined the battle against Malos, Pandoria at his side, his massive blade crackling electricity as it met with that of the Dark Aegis. Tora and Poppi, too, launched themselves at Malos, and even Dromarch, bounding out of the smoke and flame of the ruined hulk of the Titan, leapt at him with tooth and claw. Only Morag, blinded by her revenge, fought against Mythra with him, and Fan, who raised her staff and concentrated, trying to cut Mythra off from her power, though the Aegis moved too quickly for Haze to track her.

But Malos fought like a dark god, flowing like shadow between them all, and true to his word, he was at the last of his mercy. Where he could strike at Mythra, he did, but where he was prevented from doing so, he did not spare those who came between him and Mythra from what could very well be killing blows. Tora and Poppi were sent flying by an explosion of dark flame, landing limply in the dust, Zeke stumbled backwards, where a sword stroke from Malos that might have beheaded him had he not dodged had been turned into a long gash across his chest, the skin around it rapidly turning black.

Malos was simply too powerful, with the power he drew from the core crystals and that he amplified through Rex.

"Architect, stop him," Nia cried, clutching Rex to her, "He's...he's..."

She glanced down. Healing Rex had suddenly become much more difficult. It now felt as if she was futilely pushing up a mountain that threatened to collapse down upon her. Part of what worked the power of healing was the patient's own inner strength, their own burning desire to live. And Rex…

Rex clutched weakly at her jumpsuit, shaking hands pulling at the fabric as she stared down at him with eyes wide in shock. "It hurts too much," he gasped weakly, half in and out of consciousness. "Please. Just let it end. I'm sorry. I'm not strong enough. Let it end." With a racking sob, he went limp in her hands, falling completely into unconsciousness.

Rex no longer wanted to live.

Nia stared numbly at him. She felt the world fall away from her. The sounds of battle faded away, the screams and clashing of blade fell away. The flame-scorched sky fell away. The cracked and ruined desert of Temperantia fell away. Everything but Rex, dying in her arms, fell away, and she was left in a world of thick gray fog.

_I told you you couldn't save him, _came a mocking voice from the fog.

Nia looked up, tears falling from her wide eyes. From the fog came the vision of her sister, her sister as she had last seen her, in the bloody dress, with the cruel smile upon her face, the voice that had spoken to her since her loss. _I told you, _the vision repeated, circling around her. _I told you, you worthless nothing. You can't save anyone you love._

_You can't even remember them. _That was Nia's driver, drifting out from the fog, dark shadow, heartbreak and judgment, nothing but a pair of glimmering, disappointed eyes in the dark, drilling through her. _How long before you forget this boy? How long before you move on to someone else to abandon?_

"Stop, Architect, stop," Nia cried, clutching Rex to her. She was going mad. This was it. She was truly going mad. She was losing her mind, she had to be. The pain of all her loss coursed through her, and now she was going to lose Rex too, and she had never even told him how much she cared about him.

_I told you, girl. _This was Caes, Vandham's wife, driven mad with grief, broken beyond repair at the loss of her estranged husband. _I told you, never love anyone like I loved Vandham. Why didn't you listen?_

With a burst of flame, Pyra joined the growing crowd, on her knees, clutching her hands to her heart, looking at Nia with pity and regret, hair shimmering in the haze and the heat, eyes wide and burning with madness that Nia could feel in herself, now, coursing through her, struggle as she might against it. _I tried to warn you, Nia. These bonds are beautiful, but they are poison too. They will always be turned against you. Oh, sweet dear heart. I tried to warn you. _

And then with a flash of boiling light, Mythra was there beside her, an angel of death, an angel of destruction, her face a blank shining light, surrounded by radiance so intense that it hurt Nia's eyes. _This world is a prison of suffering, Nia. We all taste it. Did you think you could escape? Oh, I wish I could have made it so. I wish I could have taken away your pain._

_He belongs to me. _This was Malos, flickering into existence like a shadow, Malos of the faceless helmet, Malos the pillar of dark flame, Malos the Destroyer, Malos the Vampire, his tattered cloak swirling around him, dark sword in hand. _He chose this duty. He chose this oath. He chose death, Nia. He loves death more than you. Who are you to deny him the death he chooses? _

And rising above it all, rising behind all the ghosts and demons, rising like a monolith, with eyes that swallowed the world, rising with all the flame and horror of war, all the sins of history, turning the gray fog around her to howling darkness, was Amalthus, a wound in the world, a sickness in the heart of everything, and Nia clung to Rex as that darkness closed in around her, that primal emptiness. And Amalthus didn't say anything, but he did not have to. His mere presence spoke of the dark truth that lay at the heart of all reality, that she was alone, Rex was alone, that they were all alone in the dark, in the brief flicker of life they were given, alone in eternity, life was but a mirror of the long, endless emptiness of death.

And Nia closed her eyes, clinging Rex to her, her tears falling into his hair, feeling his weakening heartbeat against her chest as the darkness closed in.

And suddenly, she...thought of Dromarch.

Loyal Dromarch, who had always been with her. Who had cared for her, at all her lowest points. As annoying as he could be...she couldn't help but smile a bit at the thought of him.

And then another thought. Brighid. Brighid, who had helped her with her dress. Brighid who had kept her secret, on her honor. Brighid, who had shown her how to hide her crystal, who had given her a swimsuit, Brighid, who was...her friend.

Amalthus spoke, then, and it was almost enough to drive her mad right then and there. _NO, CHILD, _he spoke with a voice to damn her soul. _YOU ARE ALONE. _

Nia sobbed, clutching Rex tighter to her as that voice invaded her mind…

And then another thought bubbled forward. Morag. Morag, who had talked to her after she ran away when Vandham died. Who had always shown her quiet concern. Who had told her it was okay to love, even when those you loved put themselves in danger.

"Wait," she said quietly, as a flame was lit in her soul.

More thoughts came now, in a cascade. Tora, laughing, joking, clever Tora, who had helped her sell her figurines back in Uraya, who had won her her first date with Rex. Trickster Poppi, always quick to tease, in her own odd way. Poppi who had called her brave, and asked her curiously why she did not simply tell Rex why she loved him.

She looked up at the demons crowding around her, eyes shining. "No," she whispered, her voice full of wonder.

And more thoughts. Zeke and Pandoria, with their obvious love, Zeke who had not even thought twice when she had cried for help against Malos. And even Pyra, when she had cooked for Nia, and treated her like a kid sister, back when she was with Torna, and even Malos himself, damn him, when he was not being so bloody minded, when he had rescued her in Uraya, when he teased her about Rex, when he was always honest with her, she could always rely on him for unfiltered advice.

"You're….you're wrong," she said, weeping again, but now these were no longer tears of pain and loss. They were tears of a sudden beautiful realization.

Because through it all, there was another thought. Rex. Rex, who had been so quick to trust her. Rex, who joked and teased, and blushed furiously when she teased back, Rex who had dared her to dinner, who had danced with her, Rex who from the moment he had met her had seen the good in her...the good that actually, really was there. Rex who, even now, through all the pain, all the darkness, all the horror, even now had a burning belief, a pure white flame in his soul, an unending certainty that things could be better, and she laughed as she realized, that burning flame was in her now, too. Through his smiles, and through his bond with her, through their love, that flame had spread, and she no longer cared if it was childish, she no longer cared if it was naive, she simply believed. And they would stand together in that belief, against the horror and dark of history, and she would never...let...him...go.

"You're wrong," she laughed, tears of joy streaming from her face, as she held her hand to her heart, as she began to glow with light, and all that dark and horror retreated from her. "_It doesn't have to be like this."_

And she burst forth with light, radiating, and before that flame, the darkness surrounding her fled. Her sister, her father, Caes, Pyra, Malos, Mythra, they all melted away, the flame of war, all the horror and sin, and even the eternal eyes of Amalthus fell before it, as Nia felt the joy and certainty flood through her.

It could be better. It could be beautiful.

…**.**

Malos clashed with Mythra, ash falling around them, and the world warped and twisted where their blades met. All the others had fallen, surrounding them, gasping for breath in the dust and the darkness, as the two Aegis' fought with power and might granted to them by their Father, seeking desperately to end the other, to hold each other accountable for their sins.

Malos snarled wickedly as he pressed his blade down upon Mythra, bearing down upon her, dark flame crackling and roaring. "_Annihilation," _he hissed, putting all his strength behind it. Damn it, why was this not easier? With the power he drew from Rex, with the power he drew from the cores circling his head, he should be easily overpowering her. And he had been, for the most part – she was wounded, burning with dark flame, he could see it eating away at her, see her death in her eyes, so close he could almost taste it – but it should have been more than enough to end her by now. From where did she get her strength…? Or from where did his weakness come?

Suddenly, there was a massive burst of energy that they both felt through the ether. And a voice like a clarion call echoed through the battlefield: "NO MORE!"

They turned around, and there, radiating light and life, was Nia. Her ears longer, her silver hair falling in waves down her back, almost touching the ground, her legs long and bare, clad in plated white boots, a dress of layered white, black and red blooming around her like a flower. She held a long, thin blade of glowing blue crystal, woven about with white lilies, and her core crystal burned like a beacon in her chest. And where she stepped, the dead land of Temperantia sprang to life: springs bubbled forth in that dry and cracked dust, flowers bloomed, grass grew, until Rex was lying gently cradled in a soft bed of plant life, wrapped protectively around him. Health and life radiated out from her, dousing the flames of the burning Judicium Titan, revealing a groaning and scorched, but still living, Azurda, restoring health to all it touched, save the two battling gods. Zeke, Pandoria, Tora, and Morag wore expressions of shock and wonder upon seeing her. Poppi, however, merely snapped her fingers. "Poppi had a sneaking suspicion," she said to herself.

Nia wore a smile upon her face, and when she opened her eyes, they blazed with such defiance that Malos himself took a step back, and Mythra, Angel of Death and Daughter of the Architect dropped her sword in sheer awe of the life and beauty radiating from her.

"No more," Nia cried again, and with a contemptuous flick of her sword, severed the ether connections Malos had to Rex.

Malos howled as they recoiled back into him, sending him flying in a blast of his own dark flame, the core crystals dropping from his head, darkened and black, into the dust. "_No!" _he roared, stretching his hand outward toward her. "_No, Nia. You will not deny him his duty. You will not deny him his oath."_ And from his outstretched hand coiled a dozen of his twisted ether connections, black and howling, racing towards Rex.

Drawing her sword in a circle around her, Nia summoned an ether shield, and the racing connections bounced harmlessly, powerlessly, off of it. "No," she cried, beaming with joy, her heart and soul aflame with sweetness, as she defied him. "Not like this. You will not have him, Malos. _You will never have him!"_ For Nia had her own ether connection to Rex now, and it glowed like the sun.

Malos howled in rage and fury, black flame exploding from him, glaring about him. There, limping away, having taken up her sword again, was Mythra, retreating now from the battlefield. She looked back at Malos as he stalked after her, raising her sword of blazing light. "I don't think so, Brother," she panted. "I do not think you could take me now." Her eyes drifted back towards Nia, once more widening in awe. "Who would think," she murmured to herself.

Malos shook in rage and frustration. "_One day, Mythra," _he snarled. "_I promise you. One day, you will beg me for your life. And I will show you all the mercy you showed to all your victims."_

Mythra gazed sadly at her brother, and then at Rex, with something like regret, and then limped away, disappearing into the howling wind carrying smoke and ash.

Nia, with the help of Zeke and Poppi, was loading Rex's prone form onto Azurda's back. The Draconic Titan, though he still lived, had a bright, shard of dark iron embedded deep in his underbelly from the explosion with the Ardainian battleship. Brighid was helping a limping Morag, wounded in her desperate swordplay against Mythra, too deeply for Nia's cursory healing to immediately repair. Fan tended to her as best she could. Pandoria cradled, in her arms, the darkened core crystals, scooped up from the dust from where they had dropped from Malos' crown.

Nia held her sword out toward Malos' chest threateningly as the Dark Aegis approached. "You aren't coming with us," she hissed. "No. You stay right where you are, and not a step closer."

"I recommend you listen to her, Malos," rumbled Gramps, pain evident in his voice, but baring dagger teeth, his eyes flashing fury. "Remember my promise to you what would happen if you ever hurt my Rex."

Malos looked over the band. Brighid, Poppi, Tora, Zeke, Pandoria, Dromarch, and Gramps all looked at him with anger, contempt and suspicion. Morag's face was hidden in the shadows of her cap. Only Fan offered him sympathetic, sad eyes.

And Nia...her eyes blazed such defiance that Malos actually felt intimidated. Who would think, indeed. Who would think that a mere Flesh Eater could make one such as he feel uncertain. "_You cannot keep him from me forever, Nia," _he said. And then with a flash, his helmet was gone, his cloak was gone, and he was as he normally was. And he looked tired, so tired. "He does still have his oath," he continued, almost apologetically. "It will be fulfilled."

"Nuts to your oath," Nia snapped. "Here's mine. You will never, ever harm him again."

And she climbed upon Azurda's back, and Malos watched from a distance as the Titan took off, shooting into the sky. He looked around himself, at the ruins of Temperantia, at the dying flames of Mor Ardain, which still burned beneath the Cloud Sea, at the scorched and war-torn sky. And then he melted into black flame and shadow.

…**.**

Nia clung to Rex, her forehead touching his, tears falling from her eyes onto his face, as they soared through the sky on Azurda's back. He was still unconscious, and so grievous were his wounds that even with Nia's Flesh Eater capabilities, they ate up all she poured into him, like great black holes torn into him, swallowing all her power. But she healed, and healed, never stopping, not for a moment, though it took all she had.

"You're going to live, Rex," she said, her hand on his face, "You're going to live, because there's nothing I can't heal. I will fix this. I'll hear your voice again. I don't care how much healing it takes, because I'm not afraid anymore. I won't hide anymore. This is who I am." She laughed, blinking tears from her eyes, not caring who heard. "I love you. _I love you, Rex!_"

**Extended Author's Note**

Well, that's it. This is basically the halfway point of this fic, at well over 300k words. PLEASE, please comment if you read this and appreciate it in any way. This milestone would absolutely be the place to comment on. I enjoy all kinds of comments, from just short ones to the longer ones that go over things in more detail, and I read them all. I do wish sometimes I had a way to interact more with people who might be fans of this work outside of these notes, to answer questions or something.

This whole work began pretty much entirely as an excuse to write a Nia/Rex story, just because (sorry, Rex/anyone else fans) I find them a lot more fun and relatable than the other pairings that Rex typically gets put in (including in the actual game!) But as I wrote, I kept on coming up with more ideas, and around the end of chapter 2, I had an actual general outline for a much larger fic. I did add a lot of details and fill in some spots as I was writing, which probably led to some inconsistencies you can find if you look for them. As I've said before, if I was considering this an actual work of fiction, I'd treat this whole thing so far as much more like a rough draft, something to go back and polish up after it was all down – especially the earlier chapters.

Now, here are some of my thoughts about writing in no particular order:

**This Chapter In Particular**

I hope this chapter is enjoyable, and that it's not too much of a slog. At some point, I felt like I was taking a big risk by having such long, extended sections focusing on very minor characters and their participation in the war. But I also felt it was important to give a view of the war, even though none of the main cast was directly participating in it.

I also hope that you understand that the sections I have dwelling on the regrets and dying thoughts of Maclair and Nelson are not meant to excuse them, or to say that we should have sympathy for murderers and evil men. What I was trying to communicate, and I tried to do this with Sylvie in chapter four as well, is that one of the greatest tragedies of history is that people who become monsters in some political circumstances might have been otherwise decent in others. Sylvie kind of got her redemption in chapter 4, but I think it's important to note that sometimes, most of the time, in fact, that redemption never comes.

And as for the destruction of Mor Ardain: I tried to give some (what I considered) very subtle hints and clues that it was coming as far back as chapter three (and maybe even earlier, but I can't remember my thoughts that far back.)

Anyway, I hope that it was an enjoyable read, and I hope that the conclusion, with Nia's defiance of her demons, at the end, was a sufficient light at the end of the tunnel to lift up people's spirits after what felt like a very long, brutal slog through darkness, at least while I was writing it.

**Brionac**

I didn't want to simply make Brionac into "Nazis, but they're Ardainian", because that would have felt too glib, but at the same time I didn't want to have someone sit Rex and the party down and say OKAY GUYS, HERE'S THE EXTENDED POLITICAL HISTORY OF THE BRIONAC PARTY! So I tried to communicate what complexities I could about Brionac from people's brief interactions with their members. So if you were wondering, here's what I thought about the political ideology of Brionac:

Brionac began as a Worker and Soldier's party, critical of the class structure of nobility in Ardainian society. They thought the fruits of conquest and industry should be more evenly distributed among the factory workers and common soldiers of the Empire. But while they criticized the class structure of Mor Ardain, they never criticized her other harmful traditions of conquest and expansion: In fact, since they idolized the military hierarchy of Mor Ardain, which was more meritocratic, they embraced them. By the time Niall became Emperor, most of the nobility had been cowed into submission, since although they were nobles, they relied on votes to get into the Senate, and the industrialists of Mor Ardain had reached an accord where they accepted higher tax rates and redistribution because of the sheer amount of business that Brionac's war plans would bring in. The influence of Amalthus instilled them with their messiah complex, and Niall's defiance of them riled up the anti-noble and anti-royal sentiments that they had always carried with them, leading to the coup plot. That was another thing I tried to communicate in this chapter, with the differences between Casey, Maclair and Nelson: They are brutal and bloody, but not monolithic, and they recruited from unusual places. Maclair was a member of the underclass, and almost a counterculture punk in his youth; Nelson was a working class man, and Casey...well, you might notice that he is suspiciously not dead by the end of this chapter, so more of his background will be shown in the future. I wanted to communicate that the problem with Mor Ardain wasn't just "Well, they get rid of this one party who is just a bunch of rich stupid people nobody likes and they're actually all good guys." Mor Ardain went wrong in many ways, on many levels, to get where it was by the time of this fic. Also please, don't think this is saying anything about real-world politics. I'm not saying that all worker's parties are secretly a bunch of fascists or that royalty is better or whatever nonsense people might read into this sort of thing. I'm saying that these were the conditions in THIS particular stupid fantasy political party in THIS particular stupid fantasy country in THIS particular stupid fanfic. It is not meant to have any real world political implications whatsoever.

**Music**

Music is a particular inspiration for me. A lot of how I write is that I imagine particular scenes or themes to particular pieces of music, and write a lot of my chapters as a sort of journey to these particular scenes that resonated most strongly with me. And it's not always the sort of music you might expect. For example, the subtitle, repeated phrase, and theme of "It Doesn't Have to Be Like This" came from me listening to "Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales" by Car Seat Headrest, which I hardly think was written with an epic fantasy in mind. With that said, here's some other music that heavily inspired this chapter, with the attendant scenes that they most heavily inspired.

"Hope", by A Message to Bears – Niall's confrontation with the Supreme Command

"Archie, Marry Me", by Alvvways – Maclair's regrets over Jenny

"Charge of the Rohirrim", LOTR soundtrack – Zuo's charge against Nelson

"Scotland's Shame", by Mogwai – The destruction of Mor Ardain

"I am Free, Today I Perished", by Crippled Black Phoenix – Niall's final walk through the Palace, and the tune the Ardainians heard before their deaths

"I have Two Shadows", by Arrive Alive – Nia's defiance of her demons

As an added bonus, there is a song that always makes me think of Amalthus:

"Anthem for No State", by Godspeed You Black Emperor

If you are going to listen to these for some insight or inspiration of your own, I recommend you listen to the whole thing: Sometimes it is a particular moment of music that inspires me the most strongly about a particular scene. (See if you can pinpoint the moment in "I Have Two Shadows" in which I pictured Nia standing up to her demons and ghosts.) And in particular, if you listen to Anthem for No State, listen through to the end – there is a particular scene I have in mind, far in the future, for Amalthus, heavily inspired by the end of that song (You'll know when it hits.)

**The Future**

Part of what inspired me to begin writing again was actually just simply watching a speedrun of XBC2 done in under 4 hours, by Enel (look it up on youtube, it's a very impressive run) and the release (just yesterday) of Xenoblade DE.

I know I just returned only recently after a long absence, though I do think it was good that I took an absence, even though I know I certainly lost some readers in the process (I do hope they rediscover this fic some day.) This work is _very _long at this point, and it's not actually that unusual for authors to take a step back from their work for extended periods of time. It gave me time to solidify what I wanted to do with Amalthus.

Now that being said, when I update this, I have always updated it at a breakneck pace – 10k+ word chapters a week – that I simply don't think I will be able to maintain going into the future. I do like the story, and I do plan on finishing it – but 300k words is a HUMONGOUS amount of effort and mental energy to pour into a piece of work for a relatively small fandom. And I do have ideas for original fiction of my own that working on this DOES take me away from.

So, although I did just return from a long absence, I think after this 50k beast of a chapter and halfway milestone, I will probably take another bit of an absence – not as long as the first – while I try to figure out what my new schedule is for this fic, and after that, updates will come slower than they have been. (Although I might try to get the first chapter of Act 6 out quickly, because – spoiler alert – it's going to contain scenes between Nia and Rex that I think a lot of people have been waiting for.) Part of the problem is my own inability to take things at a more relaxed pace, for sure – when I get inspired to write scenes, I write them furiously, sometimes pumping out 10k+ words in a single day. But that's simply not going to be something I can maintain with real world obligations and duties without sacrificing the greater majority of my free time to this fic alone. So stick around, please, even if updates become a bit inconsistent as I try to figure out a new pace at which to work on this.

I mentioned this earlier, but one of the things I might also consider is going back and rewriting some of the rougher earlier chapters, or making descriptions more detailed so that this fic is maybe more accessible to people outside of the Xenoblade 2 fandom – writing character descriptions and location descriptions with the idea in mind that people may not have played the game? I don't know if that would actually make it more accessible to people outside of the fandom. I'm not decided on whether or not I would do this yet. But I would like more fans, of course, who wouldn't?

**The End**

Well, that's it, I've rambled on in this note for long enough. My sincere thanks to all the people who review this work, and who have stuck with it through my long absence, and who have indulged me in this rambling. Your comments are a major source of inspiration as well, and I read absolutely every single last one of them.

Now to post this ridiculous beast of a chapter.


	26. Chapter 26

**1.**

Rex was alone in a vast, empty darkness, complete black, save for one dim, flickering orange spark in the distance.

He coughed, stumbling forward, walking on nothing. His limbs, his lungs, his heart ached, and he fell, crawling, pain wracking him, towards that flickering orange spark, reaching for it, not knowing why-

And suddenly, the spark ballooned in size, racing towards him. It was the burning Ardainian Titan, explosions rocking its surface, its skin cracking open to reveal great, oozing wounds of lava, its cities ablaze, its dying cries the screams of all its citizens.

Rex gasped as guilt and shame so complete raced through him, a crushing mountain of it, flattening his thoughts, feeling almost as if it was stopping the very heart in his chest. He gasped for breath – he couldn't get enough air, no matter how much he breathed in, his head felt like it was in a vice, his heart felt as if it were being slowly squeezed – how could he have failed so badly, so completely, how – how many dead because he wasn't strong enough, how many lives snuffed out -

Morag swam into his vision before him, broken, pale, her eyes, normally calm, filled with a madness of loss he couldn't possibly fathom, her accusing stare piercing through him, and he wanted to cry out to her, wanted to tell her he was sorry, but what could he possibly say, what words would ever be enough for her to forgive him for the blood on his hands, he wanted to say something but he just couldn't _breathe - _

And now Malos loomed before him, looking so disappointed, disgusted with him, contemptuous of him, and Rex felt something within him breaking. "I'm...sorry," he managed to frantically force out, between ragged gasps, "S-sorry..."

"Sorry isn't good enough, Rex," Malos replied, his eyes burning with dark flame. "You need to be stronger. If you can't take the pain, how can I know that you will be ready to do what it takes? How can I know that you'll be ready to die, if necessary?" And suddenly, Malos melted into the dark, became a hole in that darkness, a void, darker than the dark, a great, yawning pit, an eternity of emptiness, that grew larger, and larger. "Duty," came Malos' voice from somewhere within that void, "Demands it of you. Will you simply be a boy, or will you be a man, Rex? Will you complete your mission?" His voice grew large, grew into something more, became the void itself speaking, demanding of Rex's soul obedience. "_FULFILL YOUR OATH. YOUR DUTY."_

That void was everything, that void was forever. Rex shook with fear as it grew, closing in around him, but he closed his eyes, and tried to be brave. If this was what he needed to do, damn it, he could do it. Even if he was too much of a coward to face it without shaking, even if he was too weak to face it without fear, he could do this, he could -

Suddenly, there was an insistent tugging, almost like a hook in his chest, and Rex felt himself yanked….upward, outward...he didn't know...away from the void, away-

And then he was gone, gone away from the dark, away from the void. He was...on his feet. In Amalthus' throne room. Though it was….different, somehow. Darker. The shadows stretched towards him, menacingly, the gold and white stone seemed tarnished, filthy. Through the large, arching windows, the sky was full of lightning and flame, bathing everything in a dull, orange glow. The Praetor was there, seated in his golden throne, and Rex could not meet his gaze. It howled judgment, all the world turned within it and bore down upon him.

"A harsh lesson," Amalthus said, his voice soft, but shaking the walls around him with sheer power. "In the price of failure. But ever will it be so, for us, Drivers of the Aegis, Rex. We are given the power to change the world. Shape it, as we see fit...and if we fail...if we do not seize the power given to us...if we refuse the gift, out of some false sense of humility, or we fail to utilize it properly, out of weakness...the blood of nations will be on our hands. You had to learn the hard way, I suppose. The ghosts of Mor Ardain are your burden, now." He smiled primly. "Don't think it will get easier. That burden can, and will, grow larger. Mine certainly is."

And Rex stepped back in shock and horror as an endless stream of souls rose above Amalthus, countless, innumerable, crowding the throne room, rising to the high, shadowed ceiling, the endless legions of souls that haunted the Praetor, and the weight of it, the horror of it, was enough to make Rex reel. How could Amalthus stand it? How could he bear the weight of those souls and still keep his sanity?

For Amalthus hardly seemed concerned by them at all. Whatever burden it placed upon him, he bore it with incredible strength, with resolve and will beyond what Rex could imagine. Amalthus was simply..._more. _The Praetor raised a hand, pointing one finger at Rex, authority and power radiating from him. "What will you do to change the world, Rex? What are you willing to do? What sacrifices will you make?"

"Anything," Rex answered, clenching his fists in determination. "I'll do anything to make it better. Anything. Even if it means my life."

The Praetor considered him coldly. Those eyes, gateways to an abyss of depths Rex could not possibly fathom. "It is easy," Amalthus said softly, his whispers working their way into Rex's head, plucking strings within his very mind, "To decide to give up your own life. Especially when you are young, and you cannot truly fathom what death means. No, Rex. The decision to die to change the world is not really a decision at all. The real question is not whether you will die to change it. The real question is...who will you _kill _to change it?"

And then those souls, the endless tides of faceless dead surrounding the Praetor howled, a chorus of such pain and loss, a terrible melody of the wound inflicted on the world, and Rex fell to his knees as the chorus grew, and Amalthus rose from his throne, but he was more than the man, there was something rising _with _him, some shadow, some roaring darkness out of history, some beast, _something_, he was more than Rex was, he was _simply more-_

"_Death, Rex," _the thing that was Amalthus and yet more, Amalthus-in-shadow, whispered to him. "_Death has a certain power. __Beyond the mere removal of an enemy from the battlefield, beyond the mere conquest of a foe. To impose your vision is a test of will, and death fuels it. Enables you. To refuse its power is cowardice, it is a gelding of the self. You will not escape it. History, this world, demands it of you. __It is a choice that you, alone, can make. Ultimately, that is what we are, Rex. You and I, the both of us, alone. No others understand our responsibility, the power granted to us. You must look into the shadow, you must steel your will, and draw your strength from it, alone.__"_

The shadow grew larger, and larger, swallowing Rex, until he spiraled into that darkness, into that quiet, calm dark, for what seemed like forever, until...

Rex awoke with a shout, drenched in sweat.

Slowly, he looked around, blinking against the light that burned painfully into his eyes. Where was he? Where...he was…

He was in his room in Fonsett village, the gentle midday sun streaming in through the window, birds chirping peacefully. Rex tried to remember how he got there, but he could not. The last thing he could remember…

The last thing he could remember was Mor Ardain burning, and Malos telling him that he would do what needed to be done. And then a memory of pain so horrific that it made Rex shiver just to recall it. What….what had happened? Was everyone okay?

He looked around himself curiously. He was laying in his bed, his clothes gone, and surrounding him were...dozens, no, hundreds, of brightly colored flowers, covering him almost like a blanket. They were….he had never seen flowers like these. He could recognize the type, but they were so incredibly vibrant, the life in them so vital that it was almost as if they glowed. He winced as he recognized what they meant from Nia's book of flowers, as well.They were a storm of conflicting emotions and messages.

_Fool. Stubborn fool. Reckless fool. You're beautiful. Idiot. Brave, courageous dullard. Please recover. Please get better. Moron. I love you. _

Rex paused. That one flower, unique among all the others, a rose of brilliant red, lay near his pillow. As he rose to his feet, he plucked it up and placed it within his pocket.

And then he glanced around, and made his way to an aged wooden dresser, complete with a mirror, to give himself a good look-over. He...looked alright. He looked fine, actually. And physically, he felt fine, he supposed….but….there was the aching, incredible sense that he just had something _missing. _It almost felt as if he had lost an arm, or a leg, except, no, he still had two each. What...what could it be?

He shook his head, spotting his salvager's suit folded neatly in a chair beside the dresser. He should get dressed-

Suddenly, there was the sound of the door opening, and Fan's voice spoke: "Oh! My, Rex, you're awake!"

He whirled around, desperately covering his shame, blushing furiously, his eyes wide with shock. There in the doorway was Fan la Norne, holding a tray of soup with a steaming cup of tea, looking at him with some surprise. If she was embarrassed by his nudity, she certainly made no sign of it. In fact, she made no move to leave; instead, she walked forward calmly, setting the tray down on the dresser, and then peered at him intently. "Remarkable!" she murmured. "Nia really is extraordinary." She placed a cool hand on his forehead, frowning slightly. "A bit flushed, but no sign of fever-"

"Miss Fan!" Rex finally managed to force out, in a strangled voice. "Please! Let me get dressed!"

Fan la Norne gave him a small bemused smile. "Oh. Is that what you're worked up about? Rex, I have seen plenty of nudity in my patients. It comes with being a healer. Do you have body image issues? Let me assure you, you have _nothing _to be ashamed of. You are quite cute-"

"That's it!" Rex cried, his face going crimson. "Turn around! Turn around right now!"

Fan sighed, as if she was indulging him, and then spun around, folding her arms as Rex quickly tugged on his clothes as quickly as he could. "What...happened?" he asked, as he dressed.

"What is it that you remember?"

"I….I remember Mor Ardain." Rex zipped up his salvager suit, adjusting a few loose flapping buckles and straps, and then knelt to pull on his boots. "And then...Malos fighting Mythra? That's it, really...is everyone alright? What happened to Mythra?"

Fan paused for a moment before answering. "Mythra...was driven off. Everyone else is….alright, at least, physically. Morag is….quite devastated, as you might imagine. Brighid is doing her best to console her, though I think she is...distraught...herself."

"All that, and we didn't manage to capture her," Rex muttered. "I bet Malos is in a state over that. You can turn around."

Fan sighed, when she turned, giving him an odd look. "Malos is….not here."

"Not here?" Rex frowned, confused. "Then...where is he?"

_Probably searching for another driver, _ a nasty voice within him said. _Why would he stay with you, after you failed so badly? After you were so weak? After so many died because of you?_

Rex gasped as suddenly Fan La Norne wrapped her arms around him in a comforting embrace. "Rex, you must know that what happened was not your fault," she murmured, almost as if she could read his thoughts.

Rex looked at himself in the mirror, and was shocked at the hollow look of despair on his own face, the tears that stained it. "I-I'm fine," he said shakily, awkwardly embracing her back. "Really. I'm...hah. I don't even know why I'm crying. Really, I'm fine." But there was a part of him which remembered the Praetor's voice from his dreams. _The ghosts of Mor Ardain are your burden now._

And Fan slowly released him, holding him at arm's length, her eyes weary with a deep, long sadness, one that had been there for a very long time. "You remind me so much of him, right now," she murmured. "Trying so hard to hide that pain in your heart. Not wanting to share it with anyone."

"Who?"

Fan's smile communicated more sadness than any tears and weeping could. "Why, Amalthus, of course."

**2.**

Rex made his way down the stairs, cautiously, Fan following quietly behind him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he might trip and fall, that there was something just missing from his body that would throw off his balance...it was an odd sensation, one that he couldn't quite explain.

As he he reached the bottom of the stairs, a small girl with flashing eyes and a mess of dirty blonde hair with dozens of ribbons of various colors tangled into it passed into the hallway, frowning intently at a piece of paper she held in her hands. She looked up, seeing Rex, and her eyes went wide.

"Now….Lisa," Rex said, holding his hands up, "Let's be calm-"

"AUNTIE CORINNNNNNNNNE! REX IS AWAAAAAAAAAAKE!"

"Oh no," Rex muttered, as from all over the house there came the stampeding of small, pattering feet, enough to shake the walls, and he found himself tackled, at the center of dozens of tiny faces, hands reaching out to embrace him.

"I knew you weren't dead! Lisa you owe me an ice cream. He's not dead."

"Rex did you really fight the Aegis?"

"No stupid! He got hurt in the war!"

"Rex...is it true? Is the Empire really gone? Gone for good?"

"CHILDREN," Corinne roared, appearing at the end of the hallway, her eyes flashing, angrier than usual. "Get over here. Give Rex some space. He just woke up, we don't know how delicate he is."

"Ah, Auntie, it's fine," Rex laughed, rubbing the back of his head as he got up and the children scattered away from him. "I'm not delicate. I'm fine, really."

Fan and Corinne exchanged concern glances. "No...no." Corinne walked forward, peering at him sharply. "No, you aren't, child. Nia said you weren't, and I believe her. I want you to take it easy, Rex. And," Corinne shook a finger directly beneath his nose, "You _listen to Nia. _You'd be dead if it weren't for her." Suddenly, tears shone in her eyes, and she desperately wiped them away. "Rex, the state you were in...I thought you were gone. I thought I lost you. That girl stayed by your side until the life in you returned. Ah, Architect." She sighed, hands still on her hips, then gave him a sly smile. "Climbed right in that bed with you. Insisted it was necessary. I wasn't so sure about that, but hey, she's the healer."

The children tittered as Rex's face burned. He thought of the rose in his pocket. Nia…

"Rex, did Gramps really take down a whole Ardainian battleship? He kept bragging about it!" one of the children shouted, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Ah. Yeah, he did actually," Rex replied, and the children gasped in awe. "Where is Gramps, anyway?"

"He's out, flying patrols around the island," Corinne said, her voice deceptively light-hearted. "Making sure we don't get any….unwanted visitors."

"Unwanted visitors?" Rex frowned. "Why? Who? Has there been trouble-"

"Don't you worry about that." Corinne sighed, then glanced around at the children. "Well. I was just in the middle of making this unruly mob some lunch. Why don't you have some too?"

Rex nodded, and then considered. "Actually...could I take a sandwich to go? I...uh...I guess I should talk to Nia. Thank her, and all that."

Corinne and Fan exchanged looks once again, and Corinne gave a small, knowing laugh. "Yeah...you two have a lot to talk about, I think. I'll get you a sandwich. And...Rex?"

"Yeah?"

Corinne's expression was so slyly happy that it was almost silly. Her eyes sparkled as she rubbed her flour-stained hands on her apron. "I don't think I have to tell you," she murmured, "But that girl cares about you a lot. So just...if she has something surprising to tell you, keep that in mind. Never doubt that she cares."

**3.**

Rex chewed thoughtfully on his sandwich, wiping crumbs away from his mouth, as he made his way into the forest surrounding Fonsett. Corinne had told him that there was a spot here that Nia liked to go to, and he'd probably find her there.

The shadows of the forest were soothing, calm. There was a real tranquility here, a peacefulness, in the winding, well-shaded paths. The breeze was like a gentle caress, There was little sound except for that of the wind rustling through the leaves, the occasional chirp of a cricket, or the echoing cry of a songbird. It seemed almost unreal, to Rex, really. That there might be somewhere so peaceful in the world, so soon after what was certainly one of the bloodiest days in Alrest's history.

He shook his head. He...every time he thought of Mor Ardain, of what had happened, there was this black claw that reached into his chest, something that squeezed its wicked barbs around his heart. He had held it off, so far, mostly by just...not thinking about it. But it would not be denied forever, he knew. He would have to reckon with the dead who could be laid at his feet. He wondered if this was what Amalthus felt like all the time. He wondered-

And then, abruptly, this train of thought was interrupted. He dropped his sandwich to the ground in shock, and dashed behind a tree, peering around it cautiously.

There, just a bit ahead of him in the forest, in a small clearing, was Nia. But...she looked...different. Her ears much taller, her hair much longer, tied back in long, loose twin tails, and she was dressed in white robes, inlaid with brown, black, red and gold, that spread around her like the petals of a flower, a small red cord tied around her waist. The dress left her shoulders bare, and there in her chest….Rex's eyes widened. A core crystal, mottled red. A...Flesh Eater's core crystal?

She sat at the edge of a crystal-clear pond, fed by a gentle waterfall trickling down a nearby cliff face, a pair of white boots lying discarded next to her, dipping long, very bare legs into the water, swinging them idly. Rex's face burned as he realized he was staring at those legs. All around her, flowers of every color, of incredible life and vitality, bloomed gorgeously. Rex's mouth dried. She was….achingly pretty. Was this really Nia…? She seemed almost...surreal, almost too beautiful to be real, like some seductive spirit of the forest, like some-

As he watched, a koi fish, flashing white and orange beneath the crystal clear water, swam up to Nia, nibbling curiously at her legs. "Hey," she snapped, picking up a stick, poking the fish. "Get. Get out of here." She frowned after it as it swam away, offended. "Stupid fish," she muttered.

Well, that settled that. This was definitely Nia. There was nothing for it, he supposed. He stepped out from behind the tree, slowly approaching her.

Nia's ears twitched, and suddenly she was looking up at him, a small blush upon her cheeks, those yellow eyes so sweet and wide that Rex almost stumbled. Architect, she was pretty. He had always thought she was, from the moment he first saw her, but...now, she set his soul on fire. "Rex," she gasped, and then she was bounding gracefully towards him, those long legs flashing, and Rex furiously struggled to keep his eyes on her face. She took his face in her hands upon reaching him, soothing and cool, running a hand across his forehead, checking him for fever, her light touch drifting down his neck, to check his pulse. "You're awake, Oh thank the Titans," she murmured, peering at him intensely. "Of course the first thing you'd do is go stumbling about the forest, of course. _Of course. _You stubborn...I...you are….hmnngh...I...Rex, I'm...so happy you're okay. I…." with a small cry of frustration, she flung her arms around him, and she smelled so sweet that Rex struggled to think clearly. "I'm happy to see you up," she whispered. "I'm...really happy."

Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Rex finally broke the embrace, though she held onto his arms. "Nia," he said, "You're a…."

Nia's ears flattened. Here it was. The moment she had been dreading. "Yeah," she said quietly. "A Flesh Eater, yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?!" There was concern, hurt, in that voice. The hurt that Nia had been afraid would be there.

She looked down, her face burning with shame, unable to meet his gaze. There was no explanation she had that was going to be adequate. "I...I just didn't, okay?"

"No! It's not okay!" There was anger flashing through Rex – he just didn't like being lied to – but more than a little sadness, too. "I...did you not think you could trust me? I...Nia, I would have never thought less of you, I..."

"No!" Nia finally bought herself to meet Rex's eyes, meet the confusion and hurt there. "Rex, I do trust you, it's...I was hiding for so long, and...I don't know. I'm sorry. I should have told you, I...I wanted to so bad, but I couldn't bring myself to….it was stupid, I know, I just...I'm sorry."

Rex's eyes shone with hurt and confusion for a long moment. And then he sighed, and shrugged. "Ah. Well. Look, we can talk about it later. Just...man, Nia, you can tell me these things." He shrugged again, and suddenly there was no longer any hurt or confusion in his eyes. "Ah well. Whatever."

Nia stared at him for a long moment. And then she burst into laughter, a relieved, merry laughter that filled the woods around them. "That's it? I was….so worried….for so long," she murmured, when her laughter had died down, laying a hand alongside his face. "So worried about how hurt you'd be...and that was it. Oh...I should have known. I should have known my Rex wouldn't make a mountain out of a molehill."

Rex blushed a bit, hearing her call him 'my Rex'. "Well. I wouldn't exactly call it a 'molehill.' You know, I am a little annoyed, still. But, well...I'll get over it, I suppose. Just as long as you don't hide things from me again."

"As long as we're talking about why we're angry with each other," Nia said, becoming more serious, "I...have something I'm angry at you about." She paused for a moment, and suddenly her eyes shone with the beginning of tears. "Rex, how _could _you," she whispered. "How _could you_ let him hurt you that badly? You almost _died,_ damn you!"

Rex looked away from the hurt in her eyes. "It...wasn't all that ba-"

"_Don't you dare!_" Nia cried, grabbing his face in her hands, unable to stop the tears. Malos...it had taken everything, _every _ounce of strength she had to save Rex from the holes torn in him by Malos. It was the first thing she had ever encountered where she truly was uncertain whether she would have been able to heal someone back from their wounds. And she hadn't been able to completely – Rex was fine, now...but she could still sense the awful, horrific wounds torn inside him. He didn't know it, yet. But he would need her healing just to stay alive, now. If she didn't regularly treat those wounds, they'd fester, eat him up from the inside, in ways she didn't even truly know, didn't even truly understand. She still didn't know if they would ever truly heal. She tried not to think of how many years of life Malos may have robbed him of. If she thought about that her heart might shatter. "Don't you _dare! _Damn you, you stubborn, reckless fool, I _know! I know what he did to you!_ Don't you ever try to hide it from me! I know, Rex...I...saw the pain, I know he...Rex, I know it was so bad that by the end of it...you didn't even want to...Rex, oh, damn you, damn you, damn you, how could you let him? _How can you bear it?"_

Rex was looking down at the ground, shame written clearly across his features. "I...know," he murmured. "I was too weak to fulfill my duty. I know."

Nia looked at him with horror. _He loves death more than you, _whispered a small voice within her, much smaller than it might have been in the past. But she shook her head, driving that voice from her mind, and drew him into her, until their foreheads were touching. "Never," she whispered to him. "It is never...never your duty to kill yourself for Malos. _Never. _Do you have any idea what it did to Corinne? To all those kids in the orphanage, when they saw how bad you were? To Gramps? Damn you, do you have any idea what it did to me? How could you, Rex, how could you break my heart like that?"

Rex finally met her gaze, his eyes so close to hers, filling her vision. There was a sadness there, a grim determination. "It's not for Malos," he said, "It's...to stop Mythra. To stop things like Mor Ardain from happening again. If I'm the only one who can, then..."

"No. No. _No, no, no."_ Nia's soul ached. Malos had put this damn stamp, this brand, this oath, on Rex, her Rex...but that wasn't quite right, was it. It wasn't just Malos. It was something in Rex, too. Something in him that loved death. But it wasn't just him, either. Maybe this was in all the soldiers, all the warriors of the world, this fascination with their own deaths. She could not truly say that Malos had put it in him. He had only taken advantage of it. "You have a duty to the people who love you to live," she whispered sadly. "That's it. That's your duty to Corrine, to Gramps, to...to me." Her blood boiled with anger, her heart ached, as Rex blushed once more with shame. "Swear it. Swear it to me."

Rex was silent, that grim determination in his eyes a howling void, a rent torn in his soul. "You sent Malos away, didn't you," he murmured.

"Swear it!" Nia cried, her hands trembling against the sides of his face. There was something in Rex's stare that terrified her. Architect, how could he be so _dedicated _to his own death? How could his soul burn with such sweetness and at the same time, he had this mad love of death?

Rex sighed, and then slowly reached up, taking her hands away from his face, clasping them in his own. "I suppose another oath wouldn't hurt," he said quietly. He was serious, now, no trace of humor in him. "I vow to you...if I can live, I will. I owe you that much."

Nia drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes. "And I vow to you, I will...wait. Ach. I suppose I should...ask..." Suddenly, she felt her face burning, and she couldn't meet Rex's curious gaze. "I...Rex...I...want to be your blade. I want you to be my driver." she could feel the blush traveling to the tips of her toes.

"My...blade?" Rex murmured curiously. "I….does it work like that?"

"Ah...not normally, no. Normally blades don't get to choose...but I am a Flesh Eater, and...not since my old driver...but we have actually….shared a bond before. A few times...without me controlling it, we've…." Nia braced herself, and then reached out through the ether, until a golden cord extended between herself and Rex, until she could feel Rex's soul blazing through it, still so bright and strong...even with the awful holes ripped in it by Malos, still enough to overwhelm her, to cloud her thoughts, to make her feel as if she could barely control herself. _You're alone with him, _that hungry voice within her said coyly. _All alone, in the forest, where no one can hear. _But she pushed that voice aside for now. "Titan's foot," she gasped. "This...this is what a real ether bond is like. I want to show you what it's like to have a proper bond, to...have a real connection with your blade, not that...twisted bullshit Malos has, you deserve to know-"

"Nia," Rex said, and Nia forced herself to look at his face, and his smile was so blazing, so pure, it made her weak in the knees. "Of course...of course I'll be your driver."

Nia felt a silly, stupid smile spread across her face. "My driver," she murmured. "You're my driver. Mine. You're mine."

"And you're my blade," Rex replied quietly.

Nia shivered, her ears twitching happily. It...felt...so right to hear that. Like something she had been missing for a long, long time had finally fallen into place. She blazed with happiness, with sheer joy, with a burden long bearing down upon her being lifted. She felt light, almost as if she was floating now that that weight was gone. "Say that again," she laughed, the joy within her bubbling over, as she drew Rex into her once more, wrapping her arms around him, face mere inches from his, his eyes, oh, those beautiful eyes filling the world.

"What?" Rex laughed. "That you're my blade?"

Nia thought her heart might lift right out of her chest with sheer exuberance. How could simple words make her so happy? So ecstatic, so mad with joy? "Again," she beamed, her eyes shining with adoration.

The smile Rex gave her was a sly trickster's smile. "I think," he said knowingly, "It's something else that you _really _want to hear from me."

"Oh yeah?" Nia challenged, even while she felt as if she was floating in his arms. "What's that, smart guy?"

"I love you," Rex replied, and kissed her.

Nia felt as if electricity ran from the tips of her ears to her toes, as if every fiber of her burned with happiness. Her mind soared, going blank, barely even aware that she fiercely returned the kiss. She felt Rex's soul burning brightly, an inferno of sweetness, of beauty, roaring through their bond, and she felt her own roaring in return, her eyelids fluttered, and everything was joy, joy, joy. Architect, she had been right. It could be beautiful.

When she could think straight again, when she was aware of anything more than the kiss and her joy, she was held in Rex's arms, trembling slightly, her head resting against his chest, breathing in the scent of him, panting for breath. "You," she breathed, smiling fiercely to herself. "You thought that was so smooth, didn't you."

"Well," Rex said, "I mean...a little. C'mon, it was a little smooth."

She reached up to lay a hand against his face, her eyes shining. "I'm your blade," she beamed, "And I vow, I'll protect you...and...Ah!" She drew him in to kiss him again, unable to resist. The world spun around her. "And..." she gasped, finally breaking free, "I'll heal you…" Once more, she couldn't stop herself. She kissed him again, her blood fire, her heart alive with simple, pure joy. "Titans...damn you..." she breathed, when she broke free once again. "You have...to let me finish."

"Nia," Rex laughed, and he was so happy, she could feel it through their bond, and it made her happy to see him happy, _she _had made him happy, and he her, and it rebounded through their bond, each feeling the echoes of each other's happiness, each feeling the simple delight they had at being able to make someone they love so happy. "You're the one kissing me."

"You're not alone," Nia continued, trembling with the effort of restraint. "We're in this together, we'll do this together, it's not just your burden, and...oh, I can't...I can't believe you did this to me, I love yo_u_, _I_ _love you!" _

And she gasped as he kissed her once more, the world spun, their hearts twinned, burning bright beneath the shaded trees, burning bright against the darkness of the world. She ran her hands through his hair, her body pressed hard into his, heart fluttering in her chest, and his hands trailed down her back, and where they touched her bare skin it was as if she caught fire. She could feel his desire for her, a burning, hungry, beautiful desire, shining through the ether bond, and she knew he must feel how desperately she desired him, to feel his skin upon hers, her heart, her body sang a song of yearning, until she broke the kiss, and blushing furiously, to the tips of her ears, whispered, "Rex, I want you."

Rex held her face in his hands, smiling, and said, with innocent obliviousness, "You want me to what?"

Nia gawked at him.

He was blushing furiously, but the corner of his mouth twitched in barely contained mirth, and his eyes beamed mischievously. "You want me to...go grab you a sandwich? You want me to get you some lemonade? You-whoa! It's a joke, a joke!" he laughed, as Nia balled her fists.

She laughed unsteadily, wildly. "A joke," she said, her eyes flashing. "A joke, he says. Oh, I'll joke you. I'll joke you black and blue. I'll-"

But he silenced her with a kiss, and they laughed, love roaring through their ether bond, as they sank slowly into the tall grass beside the pond, together.

**4.**

Some time later, when the sun had begun to set in the sky, and the forest was darkened with the gentle gloom of dusk, they began to make their way back through the quiet paths between the trees, hand in hand. Rex wore a crown of flowers on his head that Nia had made for him. Nia couldn't help but laugh softly to herself, as whenever he looked at her he would blush, though truth be told she felt the heat rising in her cheeks whenever she looked at him as well. If he was blushing now, she thought, just wait until he got back and looked up what some of those flowers in his crown meant.

They could not travel very quickly, routinely stopping to pull each other aside and kiss in the shade of a tree when the mood struck them. Nia felt almost silly, how often she wanted to do that. She would have never thought of herself as the type to get worked up over a kiss. But...it was just fun, with Rex. And feeling his emotions shining through the ether bond, she couldn't help but want to.

She might have worried what this would mean for them, how this would change things. But though Rex looked at her with love shining from his eyes, there was...still the same old Rex there. Naive, honest, a bit sly, a bit of a joker, a little competitive...all the little things about him were still there, that wouldn't change.

The sun had almost disappeared completely behind the horizon as they were walking back, when suddenly, mere feet from them in the gloom, two blazing orange lights like beacons snapped on, blinding them.

Rex shouted in shock, stumbling backwards, tripping and falling as those lights advanced towards them, revealing...Poppi, walking out of the twilight, smiling happily at Rex. "Hello!" she chirped cheerfully.

"Sheesh, Poppi, you scared me half to death," Rex muttered, pulling himself up and dusting himself off, glaring at Nia as she snickered at him. "What are you doing out here?"

"Poppi heard that Rex was up! Poppi wanted to speak to Rex when he awoke," the robot girl explained, stepping forward until she was very close to the both of them. She seemed...delighted, in a way that they hadn't seen her before. "But before Poppi could, Rex went off into the woods to go kiss Nia all day."

Nia's ears twitched mischievously, she swayed her hips, looking away slyly at the ground. "Heh. Yeah. Kissing."

Poppi gave her a flat, dubious stare. "Nia. Poppi knows exactly what you were up to. Poppi was trying to be delicate." She crossed her arms, giving an exasperated electronic sigh. "Poppi not _stupid."_

Nia and Rex looked at each other in shock, Rex's eyes widening, raising a hand to cover his mouth, Nia's face blazing crimson, until she buried her face in her hands out of embarrassment.

"Nia not be ashamed!" Poppi cried, rushing forward to grab her hands. "Poppi is happy for you _finally_ taking Rex and-"

"Poppi, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?!" Rex interrupted, in a strangled voice.

"Oh. Yes." Poppi dropped Nia's hands and turned, looking into the sky, as Nia mouthed a silent 'thank you', to Rex. "Poppi….was thinking, about something Nia said before we leave Praetorium." She spun again, facing Rex now, her eyes flickering in what Rex could only assume was a sign of enthusiasm. "Rex….Poppi unsure how to explain. Rex have...great belief that world can be better. And...some think that because of this, Rex is...naive." She held up a finger, ticking off the points as she made them. "Or childish. Or stupid. Or short."

"Wait, what does that have to do with-" Rex snapped.

"Or greasy," Poppi continued.

"HEY!"

"I know! Is very silly. All humans greasy. Rex not unique in this regard." Poppi shook her head at this foolishness. "And...Nia say, you can't do this alone. And Poppi spend considerable processing power thinking about this...thinking...everyone thinking him silly, or foolish, just because he think world can be better place...he must feel very alone." She held a hand clutched to where her heart would be, if she had one, sadness crossing her face. "Even...Malos, Rex's own blade, not really believe…"

"Ah..." Rex said, giving a small smile. "It's no big deal, really. I don't think about it too much. I-"

"Stop," Nia said softly, reaching out to hold his hand. Rex glanced at her in surprise. "One thing you're gonna have to get used to," she continued, squeezing his hand, "Is that with a proper ether bond…I can tell how you're really feeling. And I know, Rex. I know...it does make you a bit sad. You do wish others would believe more."

"Exactly. Rex hide feelings beneath smiles, not wanting friends to worry." Poppi nodded solemnly. "But that what Poppi want to tell you." She took his other hand in hers, cold metal gripping through the fabric of his glove. "Poppi want to tell you...you not alone! Poppi thinks Rex is right. Poppi...really, really believes. She believe it can be better than this! In fact, she think it silly not to think so!"

Rex stared at Poppi for a moment. Then, slowly, a small, happy grin spread across his face.

"You won me over, too, you know," Nia said quietly, her heart soaring to see that smile. "I...I wanted things to be better. But I didn't know if they could be. But….I don't know. Now I do. I don't think things are hopeless. I think we really can make things better. Even with all that's happened….I know we can. I know we can do it." She shook her head, laughing, wiping a small tear from her eye. "We can, and I don't care who thinks we're stupid! It can be better."

And as Rex looked between the two of them, eyes glimmering in the dusk, Nia could feel through her ether bond, the great relief that was washing over him, the relief of a burden he thought he might carry alone forever, against all doubt and forlorn hope, the sheer relief and happiness he felt at knowing that actually, he was not alone in his belief, the one light he held on to through everything, through all the horror they had seen. "Thank you," he said quietly, his voice hoarse.

"Poppi can see it," the artificial blade murmured, closing her eyes. "Poppi can see world where clever minds like masterpon's don't have to spend time building weapons. Where all their cleverness not wasted on tanks, and bombs, and things meant to kill. World of beautiful creations, of towers that reach up to touch sky! World of endless inventions, and no war! And it...beautiful. Poppi wants to see that world. Poppi wants to help make that world. And Rex...makes Poppi think she can. And when Poppi think of it...her ether engine process at higher capacity! It not make sense, but Poppi not care! It fill Poppi with….Poppi not know how to describe it! Poppi feel strong, she feel happy, like world light as a feather!"

And with a sudden shout of joy, and shouts of confusion from Rex and Nia, Poppi hoisted them both up, as if they were indeed light as a feather, seating them each on one of her shoulders. They cried in alarm that slowly turned to laughter, clinging to each other, and to Poppi, as the artificial blade twirled them around, utterly happy.

Finally, she put them down, grabbing them both by the hands once more. "Poppi...wants to teach her Tora to feel this way," she said. "This feeling..."

"Hope," Rex replied, beaming in the dark. "It's hope. And I want everyone to feel this way. I'm...you have no idea how glad I am I could help you see it." He squeezed Nia's hand, looking at her. "I'm really happy," he murmured, "that I'm not alone."

He had not known, until now, just how much the world had begun to beat him down. Losing Vandham, seeing the horrors of Brionac in Mor Ardain, and then the sheer darkness of Mor Ardain's ruin. It...had worn him down. It still did. He still had to reckon with the sheer magnitude of Mor Ardain's loss. It was...so, so hard to keep hope alive in the face of all that.

But it was easier when the ones you loved shared that hope as well.

Poppi nodded, determined. "Then...three of us. Poppi, Rex and Nia. We start with that. And we help show others."

And so, in the woods of Fonsett, while Mor Ardain yet burned beneath the Cloud Sea, the flame of hope against the shadow crawling across Alrest's history grew.

**Note**

**This is a shorter chapter – one of the shortest, in fact – but it's basically some of the stuff I considered adding as an epilogue to the last chapter. I could have made it part of a larger chapter, that would include more scenes that you will see in the future, but I figured that the story could use a more hopeful chapter after the last one, so I decided to end on this note rather than include some of the scenes that you'll see in the future, even if it is a bit corny.**

**I know some people like relationships in which there's a lot of will they-won't they right up until the end, but that wasn't something I ever planned on doing with Rex and Nia in this. I always wanted there to be the hints of romantic attraction from the beginning, slowly building into something more, and I hope I achieved that. The start of a romantic relationship doesn't necessarily mean all the tension is resolved or the conflict goes out of it, and I hope you can see, from this chapter, that just because they've admitted their feelings for each other it doesn't mean the end of development for Rex and Nia's relationship. I do hope that if you read this for Nia/Rex that this was satisfying for you. I do enjoy writing them, and I do aim for them to still be fun to read, with a lot of push back and forth, not just dissolving into mushiness because they are romantic with each other. And part of that is because, well, in my experience, that's what romantic relationships are actually like.**

**Anyway, as I said in the last chapter's notes, I wanted to get this one out quickly, but after this, I am going to be adjusting my schedule so updating this fic is not so burdensome for me, and you can probably expect slower updates in the future. Please stick around – I do plan on finishing this, although it will take me a while – and if you've read this and enjoyed it, and you know other people who enjoy XBC2 fanfics, let them know! I do basically little to no advertising of this fic on my own (I spend more than enough time just writing it). **

**And again, thank you for all the comments, thank you to everyone who reads this, thank you for sticking around through the long absence.**


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